A 
A  MI 


L.L. 


fi»lY.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 


A  MILLION  A 
MINUTE 


A  ROMANCE  OF  MODERN 
NEW  YORK  AND  PARIS 


BY 

HUDSON  DOUGLAS 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  WILL  GREFE 


New  York 
GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

Publishers 


A 

4 
I 

i 

f 
i 
f 

i 


COPYRIGHT,  1908 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 

September 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 


CHAPTER  I 

QUAINTANCE  OPENS  A  NEW  ACCOUNT  WITH  FATE  AT  THE 
NIGHT  AND  DAY  BANK 

ON  a  mellow  afternoon  in  late  Fall,  the  gardens  of 
Madison  Square  were  all  aglow,  like  a  monstrous  pa- 
lette :  flower-beds  and  foliage,  at  their  most  brilliant,  a 
blend  of  such  living  tints  as  no  mere  earthly  artist  may; 
ever  attain. 

Quaintance,  looking  out  on  the  enlivening  scene 
for  the  first  time  after  long,  weary  years  of  exile,  con- 
scious that  nowhere  in  all  his  wanderings  had  he  found 
outlook  so  thoroughly  to  his  liking,  paused  in  the  pil- 
lared porch  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  to  drink  it  in 
at  his  leisure  and  in  more  detail. 

The  dry,  rustling  leaves  were  letting  long  shafts  of 
light  through  or  cast  dancing  shadows  across  the  trim, 
verdant  turf  close  bordered  by  low  benches  all  black 
with  the  flotsam  of  the  busy  city.  The  paved  walks, 
patterned  in  arabesque  upon  the  green,  rang  with  the 
cries  of  children  at  their  play.  The  pulsing  fountain 
in  their  midst  threw  up  with  rhythmic  regularity  a 
sparkling  silver  column,  which  broke,  and  fell  back, 
like  liquid  diamonds.  The  air  was  like  new  wine. 


14  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

A  gentle  breeze  was  tempering  to  genial  warmth 
the  sunshine  streaming  from  an  azure  sky  studded  with 
cool,  pure  clouds  which  hung  there  motionless.  The 
many-colored  unequal  buildings,  cupola,  tower,  or 
square,  flat  roof,  which  rise  or  squat  with  such  be- 
wildering effect  against  the  blue,  had  all  been  scrubbed 
clean  by  the  recent  rain.  The  white  bulk  of  the  Flat- 
iron  loomed  loftily  above  its  lesser  neighbors,  one 
shoulder  turned  contemptuously  towards  its  infinitely 
loftier  successor  in  the  race  to  reach  the  clouds. 

About  its  base  the  traffic  surged  in  swirling  eddies, 
splitting  to  right  and  left  along  the  canons  of  Fifth 
Avenue  and  Broadway,  spreading  to  east  and  west 
across  the  city,  or  rolling  in  a  widening  wave  upon  the 
Square,  according  to  the  dictates  of  the  autocrats  in 
uniform  responsible  for  its  direction.  As  these  waved 
white-gloved  hands,  blew  whistles,  brandished  flags, 
the  surface  cars  clanked  through  the  maelstrom  with 
gongs  clanging,  motors  and  cabs  and  carriages  accu- 
mulated in  deep  ranks  or  spurted  on  their  way,  while 
anxious-eyed  pedestrains  risked  life  and  limb  amongst 
them,  progressed  from  point  to  point  by  reckless 
rushes. 

At  the  Bartholdi  corner  newsboys  were  shouting  ex- 
tras, ami  a  big  observation  car,  crowded  with  sight- 
seers, was  in  the  act  of  starting,  its  cicerone,  armed 
with  a  raucous  megaphone,  pleading  for  still  more  pas- 
sengers. The  hoarse  honk-honk  of  motor  horns  blended 
with  the  shrill  bells  of  swift  electric  coupes.  The  cease- 
less hum  of  human  voices  was  like  a  vast  hive  of  rest- 
less bees. 

The  tin-pan  tinkle  of  a  street  piano,  attempting 
"Dixie"  came  thinly  through  the  tramp  of  feet  innum- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  5 

erable  from  the  near  kerb.  The  watcher's  heart 
warmed  to  the  old-time  melody,  and  the  deep  breath  he 
drew  was  one  of  such  contentment  as  he  had  been 
stranger  to  for  long. 

He  could  still  count  the  days  which  had  elapsed 
since  his  release  from  the  stark,  deathlike  silences  and 
gloom  of  that  grey  jungleland  wherein  all  he  had  been 
lay  buried.  That  which  he  had  borne  there,  in  solitude, 
had  bred  in  him  a  hungry,  vehement  desire  to  mix 
again  among  his  fellowmen,  to  see  and  hear  and  feel 
for  himself  that  the  world  was  not  all  one  forlorn,  sun- 
sick  waste  of  swamp  and  mangrove. 

Only  an  hour  ago  he  had  stepped  ashore  from  an 
African  steamer,  and  even  on  the  voyage  across  he  had 
not,  somehow,  managed  to  shake  off  the  consciousness 
of  isolation  from  his  kind.  The  sea  had  seemed  almost 
as  empty  and!  mysterious  as  the  dark  land  he  had  left 
behind  him.  But  now,  at  last,  he  could  realize  that  the 
past  had  been  but  a  dreary  nightmare,  out  of  which  he 
had  awakened  to  a  new  day,  among  his  home-folk, 
sane,  safe,  and  sound.  And  the  sense  of  close  com- 
panionship with  the  brisk,  bustling  throng  about  him, 
the  quick  staccato  of  their  curtailed  speech,  the  evi- 
dence on  all  hands  that  he  was  once  more  but  an  un- 
considered  unit  among  the  millions,  were  beyond 
words  comforting  to  him. 

He  smiled  to  think  of  the  dark  fears  which  had  op- 
pressed him,  and,  stepping  down  into  the  street,  turned 
slowly  northward. 

"The  Night  and  Day  Bank  will  probably  serve  my 
turn,"  he  opined,  and  laid  a  hand  on  one  waistcoat- 
pocket  to  ascertain  that  its  contents  were  still  secure. 

"No,  I  don't  want  a  cab,  confound  you !    I'm  going 


6  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

to  walk.  I  want  to  rub  shoulders  with  other  people :  I 
want  them  to  jostle  me,  just  to  make  sure  that  this  isn't 
all  make-believe.  It  seems  almost  too  good  to  be  true. 
And  it's  such  ages  since  I've  set  foot  on  a  street  that 
I've  got  to  find  out  again  what  it's  like  to  travel  along  a 
sidewalk.  I've  all  sorts  of  things  to  see,  too/'' 

He  waved  away  the  prowling  hansom  whose  driver 
had  hailed  him,  and  sauntered  up  Fifth  Avenue,  in  a 
most  complaisant  humor. 

Many  changes  had  taken  place  along  that  fashion- 
able thoroughfare  during  his  sojourn  in  strange  lands. 
He  was  amazed  to  see  the  inroads  made  by  business  in- 
terests on  what  had  formerly  been  the  best  residential 
section  of  the  city,  and  halted  every  now  and  then  at 
some  remembered  site,  of  altered  aspect.  He  felt  much 
like  a  Rip  Van  Winkle  there,  and,  as  it  happened,  that 
did  not  displease  him.  It  suited  his  intentions  perfectly 
that  those  who  glanced  his  way  should  set  him  down  a 
stranger  in  the  great  metropolis.  He  was  above  all 
things  desirous  to  go  about  his  own  business  unrecog- 
nized, and  since  no  one  but  himself  knew  that  he  was 
still  alive,  had  no  ambition  of  undeceiving  the  ignorant. 

At  thought  of  his  absolute  independence  he  smiled 
again,  and  so  openly  that  two  or  three  of  the  passersby 
turned  to  look  back  at  him  over  their  shoulders. 

Stephen  Quaintance  was  good  to  look  at,  a  tall, 
broad-shouldered  young  man,  well  set  up,  of  easy  car- 
riage. His  regular,  clean-cut  features  bore  the  in- 
definable stamp  of  birth  and  breeding,  despite  the  dark 
tan  which  proclaimed  that  he  had  been  roughing  it,  the 
all  too  prominent  cheek  bones  which  told  their  own 
tale  of  scanty  supplies.  An  unassuming  assumption  of 
quiet  self-confidence  sat  well  upon  him.  Women 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  7 

as  well  as  men  would  have  trusted  themselves  implicitly 
to  the  safe-keeping  of  an  intangible  something  in  his 
direct  and  level  regard. 

Thin  as  he  was,  he  filled  to  perfection  his  well  cut  suit 
of  blue  serge,  and  lost  nothing  by  contrast  with  the 
sleek,  pale-faced,  clubmen,  out  in  force  at  that  hour,  to 
air  extravagant  fashions  on  their  daily  promenade. 
That  he  was  not  of  the  elect  may  easily  be  deduced 
from  the  fact  that  he  was  still  wearing  a  straw  hat,  but, 
none  the  less,  he  caught  the  eyes  of  more  than  one  fair 
maiden  cast  careless-curiously  in  his  direction  as  he 
strolled  slowly  uptown:  and  put  his  unusual  concious- 
ness  of  that  down  to  the  fact  that  it  was  overlong  since 
he  had  seen  so  many  well  groomed  and  good-looking 
girls  all  at  the  same  time. 

He  was,  as  aforesaid,  of  a  sufficiently  modest  if  not 
exactly  diffident  nature.  Had  he  been  told  that  his  own 
steadfast  eyes,  slightly  melancholy,  and,  to  all  outward 
seeming,  somewhat  indifferent,  were  yet  of  the  most 
magnetic,  that  he  was  of  a  personality  too  distinctive  to 
escape  altogether  such  flattering  attentions  as  these,  he 
would  have  laughed  amusedly  and  thought  his  inform- 
ant a  fool.  His  lines  had  fallen  chiefly  in  places  where 
a  man's  eyes  attract  no  particular  notice  except  when 
in  close  connection  with  the  sights  of  a  loaded  gun, 
where  a  nimble  trigger-finger  is  of  far  greater  account 
than  appearance.  So  while  each  pretty  face  he  passed 
met  with  his  warmest  approval,  its  interest  was  im- 
personal and  mingled  with  many  others.  In  his  sight 
they  were  collective,  and  not  individual.  No  one  of 
them  had  the  power  to  hasten  his  heart's  beat  by  so 
much  as  a  single  throb. 

He    was,    notwithstanding,    sufficiently   grateful   to 


8  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

such  of  them  as  favored  him  with  their  shy  regard.  It 
did  him  no  harm  and  a  great  deal  of  good  to  feel  that 
he  might  still  pass  muster  among  the  bejewelled  and 
gilded  youths  lifting  their  glossy  hats  so  assiduously 
as  carriage  succeeded  carriage  in  the  apparently  end- 
less procession  on  the  long  hill.  It  even  awoke  in  his 
mind,  among  other  and  equally  vagrant  ideas,  some 
vague,  half-humorous  speculation  as  to  whether  he 
should  not  himself,  one  of  these  days,  open  a  new  ac- 
count with  fate,  and,  drawing  on  that,  start  out  in  quest 
of  his  own  ideal. 

He  was  free  to  do  so.  He  might  perhaps  find  among 
all  those  beauties  in  silks  and  laces  the  living  embodi- 
ment of  that  dear  dream-maiden  who  still  stood  to  him 
for  abstract  type  of  her  sex. 

Quaintance  was  no  idle  sentimentalist,  but,  like  most 
men  who  have  led  lonely  lives,  he  had,  at  his  leisure, 
fashioned  for  himself  an  idol  of  that  sort,  and  much 
more  angelic  than  human.  Like  not  a  few  lonely  men 
he  had  yet  to  pay  the  purchase  price  of  experience.  It 
would  go  the  harder  with  him,  then,  if  fate  should  or- 
dain that  his  idol,  embodied,  lack  wings. 

But,  fate — and  Fifth  Avenue!  What  combination 
could  be  more  incongruous?  And  what  had  he,  a  hard- 
ened adventurer,  to  do  with  these  dainty,  delicate 
damsels,  whose  happy  lives  had  been  such  an  obvious 
contrast  to  his. 

Fate  and  Fifth  Avenue !  He  had  almost  laughed 
aloud,  so  laughable  did  the  conjunction  appear  to  him. 
And,  when  he  turned  at  the  top  of  the  hill  to  look  back, 
the  long,  crowded  vista  there  so  delighted  him  that  he 
straightway  forgot  all  else.  It  seemed  as  though  he 
could  never  descry  enough  of  that  crowded  city.  When 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  9 

he  once  more  faced  about  it  was  almost  reluctantly, 
and  five  minutes  later  he  came  within  sight  of  the  bank. 

A  cross-town  car  had  fouled  a  laden  wagon  at 
Forty-second  street,  and  the  smooth  stream  of  traffic 
thus  interrupted,  its  backwash  was  already  blocking 
the  avenue.  In  front  of  the  Night  and  Day  Bank  a 
choked  congestion  of  foot-passengers  was  shuffling  im- 
patiently, fretted  by  the  sudden  sense  of  restraint  thus 
imposed  upon  them.  Quaintance  suffered  the  closer 
contact  of  his  near  neighbors  with  unruffled  equanim- 
ity, and  was  pushed  aside,  uncomplaining,  by  those  in 
more  haste  than  himself. 

Progressing  impatiently,  step  by  step,  he  had  almost 
reached  his  objective  when  the  blockade  broke  and  the 
stream  flowed  on  again,  urgent,  impetuous,  with  added 
weight.  Edging  through  it  toward  the  bank,  his  er- 
rant glance  was  arrested  and  held,  for  a  moment, 
by  a  face  which  had  come  through  the  doorway, 
and  passed  him  at  speed,  to  be  swallowed  up  instan- 
taneously in  the  dense,  moving  mass  of  humanity  on 
the  broad  sidewalk. 

"The  deuce!"  said  Quaintance,  and  stopped  short, 
struggling  to  hold  his  own  there  against  the  oncome  of 
others. 

"The  deuce !"  said  he,  and  turned,  as  speedily  as  he 
might  in  the  press,  prodigiously  anxious  to  find  out 
which  way  she  had  gone.  But  he  could  by  no  means 
discover  again  the  girl  who,  save  but  for  the  shimmer 
of  unshed  tears  in  her  eyes,  was  outwardly  even  as  he 
had  imagined  his  ideal  of  girlhood. 

He  hung  on  one  heel  indeterminately,  and  underwent 
then  all  the  jostling  he  could  have  desired.  But  he 
was  as  indifferent  to  that  as  to  the  objurgations  of  other 


io  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

pedestrians  who  had  made  up  their  own  minds  where 
they  wanted  to  go.  He  could  not  immediately  judge 
whether  it  would  be  better  to  go  north,  or  south,  in 
pursuit,  was  more  than  a  little  bewildered  by  the 
strange  sensation  which  had  so  assailed  him  at  sight  of 
her. 

And,  when  he  at  length  hurried  first  south,  then 
north,  all  his  late  efforts  proved  futile.  Fate,  instant, 
insistent,  had  bided  its  time,  shot  its  bolt,  and  gone 
back  into  hiding. 

He  came  to  a  halt  at  a  cross  street  corner,  and 
stared  very  vexedly  up  and  down.  He  was  no  longer 
so  well  disposed  toward  his  fellowmen,  that  multitude 
in  whose  midst  he  had  lost  all  trace  of  the  face  which 
had  come  'twixt  himself  and  his  careless  content  with 
circumstances.  The  next  who  pushed  past  him  was 
strongly  repelled,  and  after  an  irate  glance  of  appraisal, 
went  his  way  more  carefully,  muttering. 

"The  deuce!"  said  Quaintance  for  the  third  time,  a 
faint  smile  effacing  the  frown  on  his  forehead  as  he 
saw  the  other  look  back  loweringly.  "I  seem  to  be 
making  myself  unpopular.  What  in  creation's  come 
over  me  ?" 

But  no  one  answered  his  inquiry.  The  brownstone 
fagade  of  the  house  before  him  met  his  gaze  with 
blank,  secretive  indifference.  On  every  side  he  was 
hemmed  in  by  high  walls,  all  equally  impenetrable. 

The  thought  of  the  teeming  city  brought  him  now 
only  a  sense  of  oppression  and  loneliness,  an  under- 
standing that  all  about  him,  while  he  saw  nothing,  there 
were  in  progress  those  myriad  mysteries  which  make 
up  what  men  call  life.  He  was  overcome  by  a  most  dis- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  n 

concerting  certainty  that  he  had  somehow  made  a  fool 
of  himself. 

"Confound  it !"  he  rapped  out  wrathfully,  "I  must  be 
wrong  in  the  head.  I  don't  know  how  else  I  came  to  be 
here,  chasing  round  after  a  strange  girl  like  a  stray 
Bedlam  when  I  ought  to  be  at  the  bank." 

He  wheeled  about  and  strode  down  the  avenue  very 
determinedly.  It  was  surely  absurd  and  impossible  to 
allow  any  such  fugitive  glimpse  of  a  face,  no  matter 
how  fair,  to  interfere  with  his  own  hard-won  peace  of 
mind.  He  resolutely  strove  to  erase  its  blurred  outline 
from  his  memory,  to  dismiss  from  his  mind  all  recollec- 
tion of  its  misty,  sea-sweet  eyes.  He  was  no  gallant 

adventurer  among  women The  girl  could  be 

nothing  to  him 

And,  although  he  lingered  a  little  as  he  passed  the 
spot  from  which  he  had  seen  her,  when  he  at  last  en- 
tered the  Night  and  Day  Bank,  it  was  with  his  old- 
good-humored,  leisurely  air  of  detachment  from  diffi- 
culty. As  far  as  his  outward  appearance  went  he  had 
not  a  care  in  the  world. 

The  process  of  opening  an  account  there  was  not  un- 
duly lengthy  or  complicated.  He  had  neither  introduc- 
tion nor  references,  but  he  had,  what  was  probably  more 
to  the  point,  negotiable  sight  drafts  for  a  very  satisfac- 
tory sum.  The  Night  and  Day  Bank  asked  him  two 
or  three  pertinent  questions,  and  undertook  to  collect 
that  for  him,  which  done  he  would  be  welcome  to  call 
for  a  check-book  at  his  convenience.  It  also  requested 
that  he  record  his  signature  in  its  registers  for  future 
reference. 

He  did  so,  subscribing  himself  in  a  bold  hand,  "A. 
Newman,"  endorsed  the  drafts,  in  the  same  name,  and, 


12  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

having  laid  down  the  pen,  produced  from  a  waistcoat- 
pocket  a  small  chamois-leather  case. 

"I'd  like  to  leave  this  with  you  too,"  he  said  care- 
lessly to  the  banker,  who  raised  his  eyebrows  in  quick 
surprise  when  he  saw  what  the  case  contained. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Newman!"  he  protested  gravely. 
"You  surely  don't  realize  the  risk  you  run  in  carrying 
such  valuables  loose  in  your  pockets.  The  least  skilful 
thief  on  Fifth  Avenue  might  easily  have  relieved  you 
of  them  and — you  no  doubt  came  through  the  crowd 
with  your  coat  wide  open?  It's  very  evident  that 
you're  a  newcomer  in  New  York !" 

His  client  smiled  pleasantly. 

"I've  carried  them  loose  in  my  pockets  for  over  a 
year,"  he  asserted,  "and  in  much  more  dangerous 
places  than  Fifth  Avenue.  But  the  main  point  is  that 
they're  safely  here,  and  here  I  want  them  to  stay — if 
you'll  keep  them  for  me.  There  are  only  two,  and  I'll 
take  your  receipt  for  a  stated  value  of  forty  thousand 
apiece,  if  you're  agreeable." 

"They're  worth  more  than  that,  of  course,"  said  the 
banker,  examining  with  critical  acumen  the  lambent, 
rose-colored  stones  which  Quaintance  had  pushed 
across  to  him,  and  their  owner  nodded. 

"Yes,  a  good  deal  more,"  he  agreed  easily. 

"We'll  put  them  in  safe  deposit  for  you,  Mr.  New- 
man," suggested  the  man  of  money,  and  so  it  was  set- 
tled. The  two  rose-diamonds  were  thus  securely  be- 
stowed, and  Mr.  "Newman,"  having  pocketed  the  key 
to  their  situation,  and  promised  to  look  in  again  at  an 
early  date,  departed,  on  the  best  of  terms  with  the 
Night  and  Day  Bank  and  himself.  It  was  no  slight 
relief  to  be  rid  of  the  care  of  his  assets  in  life,  and,  for 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  13 

all  his  nonchalance,  the  safeguarding  of  these  had  cost 
him  some  anxious  moments  since  he  had  acquired  them. 
He  was  also  pleased  that  the  name  he  had  given  had 
passed  unchallenged,  and  the  facility  with  which  it 
had  been  accepted  encouraged  him  to  believe  that  his 
old  identity  was  by  so  much  the  more  safely  interred 
with  the  past. 

"So,  let's  see,"  he  said  very  cheerfully  to  himself  as 
he  left  the  highly  respectable  institution  which  would 
presently  be  in  a  position  to  vouch  for  his  new  one, 
"Let's  see  about  something  to  eat  and  drink,  some- 
where not  too  dull.  I  want  to  wash  the  taste  of  frozen 
ship's-food  out  of  my  mouth,  and  my  first  meal  ashore 
might  as  well  be  an  eatable  one. 

"  'Mr.  Newman's'  health  in  a  bottle  of  sparkling  Bur- 
gundy, at  some  cool  spot  on  the  seashore  of  Bohemia, 
would  just  about  fill  the  bill.  And  we'll  reach  that  part 
of  the  world  along  the  Rialto,  if  I  haven't  lost  all  sense 
of  locality.  This  crowd's  too  correct  to  amuse  me  to- 
night— " 

He  thought  once  more  and  for  the  last  time,  as  he 
boarded  a  Forty-second  street  car,  of  the  girl  with  the 
troubled  eyes  he  had  seen  on  Fifth  Avenue. 

"I  wish  she  had  just  looked  round,"  he  concluded  re- 
gretfully, and  dropped  off  at  the  corner  of  Broadway. 
"But  it's  too  late  now  to  mourn  over  that  mischance. 
Fate — and  Fifth  Avenue  have  been  too  much  for  me 
after  all.  I  don't  believe  I'd  know  her  again  if  I  saw 
her." 

He  laughed  inwardly. 

"  'Romance  is  dead/  "  said  he  to  himself.  "What  an 
ass  I  am !" 

Broadway  was  no  less  busy  than  Fifth  Avenue,  and 


14  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

Quaintance,  once  more  in  the  mood  to  enjoy  its  kaleid- 
oscopic variety,  strolled  down  the  Street  of  Illusions, 
regarding  its  denizens  and  their  doings  with  admiration 
unfailing. 

He  brushed  shoulders  with  blue-shaven  actors  and 
smart  soubrettes,  inhaled  an  atmosphere  of  patchouli 
and  cheap  cigarettes,  was  well  content  to  mix  with  the 
mob,  to  yield  precedence  to  those  with  less  time  to 
spare  than  himself.  The  spectacle  of  the  rush  hour  at 
Herald  Square  afforded  him  great  gratification.  He 
took  a  grave  interest  in  all  the  up-to-date  window  dis- 
plays he  passed.  Sometimes  he  thought  of  purchasing, 
for  the  sake  of  a  new  sensation,  but  wisely  refrained. 
As  dusk  began  to  come  down,  and  the  blaze  that  is 
Broadway's  boast  was  deftly  switched  on,  he  called  to 
mind  many  nights  he  had  spent  in  Africa  without  so 
much  as  a  fire  for  light  and  company,  and  the  present 
contrast  was  by  so  much  the  more  acceptable.  He 
jingled  his  loose  change  joyously  and  was  glad  of  the 
glare. 

He  caught  sight  of  a  well-known  actress  in  her  coupe, 
and  she  caught  sight  of  him  simultaneously.  He  saw 
her  lips  part  in  a  faint  half-smile  as  she  dropped  her 
eyes,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  flashily-dressed  indi- 
vidual descended  upon  him  from  the  steps  of  a  hotel 
much  frequented  by  sportsmen  of  a  certain  calibre. 

"Hello,  Cap!"  began  that  ill-advised  follower  of  the 
chase,  accommodating  his  steps  to  Quaintance's,  "I'm 
a  stranger  in  town  like  yourself,  and 

Quaintance  stopped.  So  did  the  stranger.  Their 
glances  crossed,  and  it  was  the  confidence  man's  that 
shifted  uneasily.  He  drew  back  with  a  premonition  of 
evil  impending  as  his  proposed  victim  spoke. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  15 

"You're  a  stranger  in  town,  are  you?"  Quaintance 
retorted  softly.  "Then  take  my  advice  and  get  back  to 
where  you  belong  before  anything  unpleasant  happens 
to  you." 

He  waited  to  see  that  this  prescription  was  faithfully 
followed,  and,  after  the  other  had  slunk  away  without 
so  much  as  a  muttered  curse,  pursued  his  own  path, 
his  features  composed  to  a  more  decorous  gravity.  He 
had  gathered  that  his  expression  must  have  been  rather 
too  radiant  for  that  observant  locality. 

And  the  policeman  who  had  observed  trTe  incident 
from  his  post  at  the  corner  nodded  to  himself  as  he  re- 
marked, sotto  voce, 

"He's  wise  to  be  a  walkin'  danger-sign,  for  all  his 
glad  looks.  Slim  Jake  got  his  dose  straight,  an'  swal- 
lowed it  too,  like  a  lamb.  Them  mild-mannered-lookin' 
guys  ain't  always  the  safest  to  tackle,  I've  noticed,  an' 
Jake  has  more  luck  as  a  rule  when  it  comes  to  a  bad 
man  from  Oshkosh,  a  reg'lar  fire-eater  achin'  to  shoot 
up  the  town." 

With  which  professional  application  of  the  old  axiom 
that  still  waters  run  deep  he  passed  on  to  other  inter- 
ests, while  the  object  of  his  encomium  turned  into  a 
neighboring  cafe. 

The  opulent  bar-keeper  there  was  obliging  enough 
to  mix  him  a  dry  Manhattan,  and  he  found  the  flavor 
of  that  quite  equal  to  his  long  cherished  anticipation. 
But  the  appointments  of  the  place  were  not  to  his  taste 
of  the  moment,  and  he  did  not  stay  there  to  dine  as  he 
had  half  intended.  There  was  too  much  marble  and 
brass  about  it,  he  thought,  an  air  of  garish  prosperity 
too  pronounced  for  the  real  purlieus  of  Bohemia.  He 
lighted  a  cigarette,  and  always  drifting  down-town, 


16  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

turned  into  a  barber's :  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  the 
shave,  which  he  did  not  need,  as  to  rid  himself  of  the 
outwardly  dusty  sensation  induced  by  his  pilgrimage. 

To  the  easy  conversationalist  who  attended  him 
there  he  outlined  his  theory  as  to  dinner,  and  asked 
advice.  He  was  possessed  of  a  little  devil  of  lazy  irre- 
sponsibility, was  disinclined  to  think  for  himself.  And 
the  man  proved  equal  to  the  occasion.  He  did  not  con- 
fuse his  client  with  any  choice. 

"You  can't  do  better  than  dip  into  Martin's,"  he  said 
without  undue  deliberation,  and  Quaintance  at  once 
decided  to  do  so.  The  whole  of  New  York  was  at  his 
disposal,  but  he  would  most  certainly  dip  into  Martin's 
since  it  had  been  thus  ordained  that  he  should.  The 
very  expression  appealed  to  him.  It  savored  of  the 
lucky-bag  life  had  lately  become.  He  rose,  refreshed, 
and,  having  rewarded  his  counsellor  with  a  liberal  tip, 
went  on  toward  Martin's. 

He  only  stopped  by  the  way  to  buy  a  flower  for  his 
buttonhole,  again  to  have  his  cigar-case  refilled,  and  a 
third  time  to  purchase  an  evening  paper  for  which  he 
paid  its  crippled  and  ragged  vendor  a  dollar. 

But  he  had  both  time  and  money  to  spare.  The  past 
was  dead,  well  buried,  and  all  but  forgotten.  The  fu- 
ture, the  roseate  future,  was  his  to  do  what  he  would 
with.  He  had  opened  a  new  account  with  fate,  could 
draw  on  that  at  his  own  discretion. 

"And  now  I'll  dip  into  Martin's,"  said  he,  with  a  nod 
to  the  deferential  doorman. 


CHAPTER  II 
MADEMOISELLE  CREATES  A  SENSATION  AT  MARTIN'S 

It  was  not  yet  seven  o'clock,  but  Martin's  was  full, 
full  to  overflowing.  The  vestibule  was  crowded  and 
every  interior  corner  seemed  to  be  occupied.  There 
were  even  people  waiting  without,  apparently  in  the 
hope  that  some  early  departure  might  make  accommo- 
dation for  them. 

Quaintance  threaded  his  way  through  the  outer 
throng,  disposed  of  his  coat  and  hat  to  a  busy  boy,  and 
was  looking  casually  round  the  brilliantly  lighted  rooms 
in  search  of  a  seat  when  a  brisk  attendant  bustled  up 
to  suggest  that  there  might  still  perhaps  be  room  for 
one  more  upstairs. 

"I  don't  want  to  dine  upstairs,"  he  returned  affably, 
drawing  the  man  out  of  earshot  of  his  near  neighbors. 
"I  want  you  to  set  me  a  place  down  here — a  small, 
round  table  for  two  and  no  more,  up  against  the  wall. 
And  you'll  see  that  no  one  takes  the  second  seat  except 
by  my  invitation." 

The  man  looked  at  him,  a  little  doubtfully,  since  he 
could  not  recognize  as  one  entitled  to  any  such  extra 
consideration  this  masterful  stranger  who  issued 
orders  on  the  apparent  assumption  that  they  would  at 
once  be  complied  with.  But  certain  coins  were  already 
clinking  pleasantly  in  his  palm.  The  stranger's  eyes 
had  grown  ominous  over  his  hesitation.  He  became 

17 


18  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

imbued  with  an  earnest  desire  to  carry  these  orders  out, 
with  the  gratifying  result  that  his  unknown  patron 
almost  immediately  found  himself  settled  as  he  had  de- 
sired, while  a  hungry  gathering  in  the  doorway  re- 
garded him  with  wrathful  astonishment. 

Quaintance  once  more  bade  him  safeguard  the  spare 
chair  from  thoughtless  intruders,  and,  having  escaped 
the  tedium  of  picking  and  choosing  from  the 
bill  of  fare  by  the  simple  expedient  of  giving  him 
carte  blanche  for  the  best  dinner  Martin's  could  pro- 
vide, unfolded  his  paper. 

"Tell  the  chef  it's  quality  I  want,  not  quantity,"  he  re- 
quested, and  glanced  idly  through  the  headlines  while 
the  now  obsequious  waiter  went  off  in  haste  to  execute 
his  commission.  But  he  found  in  the  pink  sheet  no 
news  of  particular  interest  to  him,  and  laid  it  aside  again 
in  favor  of  an  unobtrusive  survey  of  the  assemblage 
about  him. 

It  seemed  that  Martin's  clientele  consisted  chiefly  of 
such  as  find  savor  in  life  and  do  not  disdain  to  express 
their  enjoyment  thereof.  There  was  no  restraint  or 
stiffness  about  their  actions,  no  rigid  etiquette  save 
that  of  everyday  use  and  acceptance.  They  had  come 
thither  to  dine  at  their  ease  and  make  merry.  They 
did  so. 

There  were  actors  and  artists,  musicians  and  authors, 
among  them:  idlers  and  business  men,  representatives 
of  the  professions,  fortunate  race-track  followers:  a 
mixed  and  cosmopolitan  gathering,  all  outwardly  gay 
dogs  and  good  fellows.  The  womenfolk  they  had  with 
them  were  almost  without  exception  young,  and,  to  be 
trite,  good  looking. 

The  hum  of  their  cheerful  intercourse,  punctuated  by 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  19 

the  popping  of  corks,  the  clink  of  ice  in  fragile  glass- 
ware, the  subdued  clatter  of  crockery,  the  obligate  of 
knives  and  forks,  filled  every  corner  of  the  cool  rooms. 
The  echoes  of  men's  mirth  and  women's  light  laughter 
blended  with  these  in  a  harmonious  whole,  the  keynote 
to  which  all  moods  were  attuned. 

Quaintance  was  well  satisfied  with  his  surroundings. 
He  saw  that  he  had  come  out  on  the  seashore  of  Upper 
Bohemia,  that  fashionable  resort  where  it  is  always  sun- 
shine and  summer,  where  night  is  even  as  day.  He 
felt  glad  that  the  friendly  barber  had  diagnosed  his  de- 
sires so  felicitously.  And,  when  soup  was  brought,  he 
bethought  himself  of  his  Burgundy. 

He  held  a  brief  consultation  with  the  willing  waiter, 
who  hurried  and  came  back  bearing  carefully  a  long1 
basket  in  which  rested  a  cob-webbed  bottle.  Two 
glasses  were  set,  one  by  the  empty  chair,  and  into  that 
at  his  elbow  trickled  a  ruby  liquor,  the  very  life-blood 
of  grapes  grown  in  the  far  Cote  d'Or. 

He  lifted  it  meditatively. 

"Your  good  health,  Newman,"  said  he  to  himself, 
his  face  expressionless.  "Here's  luck  to  you,  my  young 
friend.  I  hope  you  and  I'll  get  on  together. 

"Good-bye,  old  Quaintance.  You've  done  for 
yourself.  You  always  were  a  quixotic  fool,  and  I've 
no  more  use  for  you.  I  hope  I'll  never  hear  of  you 
again." 

Then  he  sat  back  with  a  care-free,  whimsical  smile, 
a  new  man  by  virtue  of  his  sel-f-baptism,  idly  observ- 
ant, in  vein  for  any  adventure. 

"I  don't  think,  on  the  whole,  though,  that  I'd  bring 
my  maiden  aunt  here — if  I  had  one,"  he  soliloquized, 
frowning  in  sympathy  with  a  fair  dame  whose  escort 


20  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

had  usurped  a  waiter's  function  and  was  in  trouble  with 
the  wire  of  a  quart-bottle  of  champagne. 

"It's  more  of  a  place  for  the  kind  that  have  cut  their 
eye-teeth — like  you  and  I,  eh,  Newman  ?  The  seashore 
of  Bohemia,  where  people  bathe  in  Perrier-Jouet,  is 
only  safe  for  the  sophisticated.  Look  at  that  scoundrel ! 
He's  ruined  her  outfit." 

Such  was  indeed  the  case.  Cork  and  champagne  had 
come  forth  simultaneously,  drenching  the  luckless 
couple  opposite. 

The  man  flushed  scarlet  at  the  overt  laughter  which 
greeted  the  ludicrous  upshot  of  his  foolish  effort,  but 
his  unfortunate  partner  made  shift  to  smile  bravely 
across  at  him  as  she  shook  her  head.  Her  thin  gown 
was  soaked  through,  and  nothing  would  serve  to  efface 
the  results  of  the  deluge  she  had  undergone.  She 
whispered  something  to  him,  and  quietly  withdrew. 
He  called  for  his  check,  and  followed  her,  somewhat 
shamefacedly. 

Quaintance  looked  elsewhere  as  each  in  turn  went 
past  him  toward  the  door,  and,  when  he  glanced  that 
way  again,  subconsciously  aware  of  some  sensation  in 
the  atmosphere,  saw  that  the  vacant  table  was  once 
more  occupied.  The  spoon  he  was  lifting  to  his  lips 
stayed  suspended  in  mid-air  while  he  also  stared  at  the 
two  who  had  just  sat  down 

Outside,  on  Fifth  Avenue,  a  hansom  went  whirling 
past  the  scintillant  windows  with  very  audible  clatter 
and  jingle.  A  surface-car  came  thundering  up  Broad- 
way and  stopped  at  Twenty-sixth  street  with  a  great 
grinding  of  brakes,  its  noisome  progress  accentuating 
the  instant  of  hush  within. 

A  waiter  came  bustling  into  the  room,  breathless, 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  21 

important,  dish-laden,  and  its  effervescent  gaiety  began 
to  froth  and  bubble  again,  the  spell  which  had  caused 
its  brief  suspension  thus  speedily  broken. 

Quaintance  set  down  his  spoon,  and  scowled  in  ab- 
ject disgust  with  himself.  He  had  surely,  he  thought, 
come  back  to  civilization  a  boor  as  well  as  a  fool  that  he 
should  behave  so.  Beneath  his  breath  he  banned  the 
over-attentive  waiter,  now  at  his  elbow,  and,  having 
helped  himself  to  the  proffered  food,  sat  trifling  with 
it  till  he  deemed  it  safe  to  adventure  a  second  recon- 
naissance of  the  newcomers. 

One  of  them  was  a  man,  but  his  back  was  toward 
Quaintance,  who,  none  the  less,  knew  instinctively  that 
he  was  not  a  likeable  fellow.  He  was  short,  thick-set, 
close-cropped  after  the  French  fashion:  well-clothed 
yet  ill-dressed :  over-ornamented,  from  the  frogged  and 
fur-lined  coat  he  had  cast  aside  to  the  stubby,  plebeian 
white  ringers  so  carefully  poised  from  the  elbow  to  show 
off  far  too  many  rings. 

The  other,  a  girl,  was  seated  opposite  Quaintance 
and  facing  him  from  across  the  room.  Her  glance  had 
met  his,  although  for  no  more  than  the  merest  fraction 
of  a  single  second,  as  she  had  sunk  into  her  chair,  and 
within  that  infinitesimal  space  of  time  he  had  recog- 
nized her  again.  She  had  flushed  shrinkingly  as  the 
long  lashes  had  dropped  to  curtain  her  dark,  troubled 
eyes,  the  same  sweet  eyes  he  had  looked  into  on  the 
steps  of  the  Night  and  Day  Bank. 

He  swore  at  himself  a  second  time  for  a  fool  and  a 
boor  because  it  might  have  been  his  over-curious  stare 
which  had  occasioned  her  discomfiture.  The  fact  that 
most  of  his  neighbors  were  still,  either  furtive  or 
frankly,  admiring  the  fair  cause  of  his  self-condemna- 


'22  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

tion  was  no  excuse  for  his  own  misconduct,  and  not 
until  everyone  seemed  to  have  satisfied  his  or  her  some- 
what inquisitive  interest  in  the  outwardly  incompatible 
pair  did  he  once  more  look  up  from  his  plate.  He  too 
had  been  trying  to  think  what  such  a  girl  as  that  could 
have  in  common  with  such  a  one  as  he  of  the  fur  and 
frogs. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  suit  so  perfectly  tailored  that 
even  a  man  could  tell  it  had  come  from  Paris.  Her 
hat  was  equally  simple  and  costly.  She  had  divested 
herself  of  a  grey  squirrel  coat,  a  pair  of  grey  motor- 
gauntlets.  The  hands  she  had  folded  upon  the  table 
before  her  were  bare  of  rings,  and  she  wore  no  other 
jewelry  except  a  pin  in  the  scarf  at  her  throat. 

She  was  assuredly  not  of  the  soi-disant  smart  set. 
The  studied  plainness  of  her  apparel  was  somehow  dis- 
tinctive in  Martin's,  and,  in  conjunction  with  her  most 
daintily  moulded,  shapely  proportions,  her  fair  face 
crowned  with  a  close-prisoned  wealth  of  resplendent 
hair,  had  won  her  the  quick  attention  of  that  little 
world.  Quaintance  could  by  no  means  conceive  what 
she  was  doing  there. 

That  she  was  ill  at  ease  and  in  unaccustomed  sur- 
roundings was  self-evident.  But  her  set  lips  bespoke 
the  resolve  to  endure,  and  she  made  no  demur  when 
the  man  with  her  roughly  bade  their  waiter  fill  her 
glass,  after  she  had  refused  the  wine  offered  her.  She 
even  sipped  a  drop  or  two  in  proof  of  complaisance,  and 
listened  uncomplainingly  to  the  low,  grumbling  mono- 
logue the  other  kept  up  throughout  their  meal.  Quaint- 
ance longed  for  the  faintest  shadow  of  any  pretext  to 
take  him  outside  and  break  his  neck  for  him,  but  was 
denied  all  such  pleasant  opportunity.  Which  served 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  23 

him  as  excuse  for  solacing  himself  with  still  more  fre- 
quent glances  at  the  girl. 

Quaintance  was  no  gallant  adventurer  with  women. 
In  the  beginning  he  had  been  disquieted  by  the  strange 
interest  this  one  had  aroused  in  him,  had  sought  to 
stifle  it  still-born.  But  now 

Regarding  her  again,  unseen,  from  under  level  eye- 
brows, no  less  perturbed,  dimly  cognizant  of  some 
crisis,  he  was  demanding  of  himself  where  and  how  he 
might  see  more  of  her. 

It  would  go  hard  with  him  if  he  could  not  accomplish 
that,  but — he  was  not  lacking  in  self-confidence.  Un- 
der his  outwardly  listless,  indifferent  manner  he  was 
most  purposeful,  always  alert  and  resolute  when  the 
time  came  to  clear  for  action. 

But  he  soon  gave  himself  up,  for  the  present,  to  a 
satisfied  approval  of  fate's  ordinance,  that  fate  at  which 
he  had  so  lately  laughed  in  light  disdain,  a  fate  fair- 
faced,  sweet-scented,  rustlingly  arrayed  in  silk  beneath 
her  well-fitting  suit. 

She  had  not  looked  his  way  again,  but — he  could 
wait.  She  wore  no  rings. 

His  own  meal  at  an  end,  he  ordered  coffee,  a  special 
brew  to  be  made  according  to  methods  imparted  to  him 
by  a  merchant  from  Mocha  whom  he  had  met  on  his 
travels,  and  while  that  was  being  prepared — at  Mar- 
tin's one  may  order  a  roc's  egg,  if  one  cares  to  pay  for  it 
• — lit  a  Havana.  Through  its  thin  blue  curtain  of  smoke 
he  could  scan  his  enchantress  more  closely,  safe  in 
the  knowledge  that  she  was  keeping  her  own  eyes 
under  the  closest  control. 

He  was,  therefore,  in  no  small  degree  disconcerted 
when  she  quietly  raised  them,  and  thus  became  aware 


24  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

of  his  inexcusable  scrutiny.  He  reddened,  furious  with 
himself,  and  puffed  a  cloud  under  cover  of  which  he 
shifted  his  glance  to  the  furthest  extremity  of  the  room. 
That  involved  him  anew  in  misfortune,  for,  when  he 
hazarded  a  fresh  offence,  it  was  only  to  find  her  com- 
panion upon  the  point  of  departure,  while  he  was  still 
waiting  his  coffee,  and  had  his  check  to  settle.  His 
waiter  was  also  most  annoyingly  absent. 

They  rose  and  turned  from  their  table,  which  was 
at  once  pounced  upon  and  carried  away  along  with 
their  chairs  to  be  added  to  the  accommodation  prepar- 
ing for  a  large  party  of  late  arrivals.  Their  waiter 
came  running  up  with  their  check,  and  with  him  the 
man,  somewhat  flushed  with  wine,  became  involved  in 
some  petty  dispute  which  shortly,  however,  assumed 
proportions  so  serious  that  the  manager  was  hurriedly 
sent  for.  The  girl  and  he  stood  there  waiting,  while 
the  other  diners  regarded  them  curiously. 

" Attendcz-moi  i^i,"  he  said  to  her  suddenly,  in  harsh 
French.  "Don't  dare  to  move  till  I  come  back,"  and 
set  off,  rather  unsteadily,  in  the  wake  of  the  waiter. 

She  stood  where  she  was,  quite  still,  cynosure  of  not 
a  few  disparaging  feminine  glances,  till  Quaintance 
sprang  to  his  feet,  white  with  anger  against  the  man, 
against  his  own  absent  waiter,  against  himself.  He 
turned  toward  her  the  empty  chair  set  on  two  legs 
against  his  table,  and,  bowing,  begged  that  she  would 
avail  herself  of  it.  She  bent  her  head  in  return,  but 
without  a  word,  and  sat  down,  one  shoulder  toward  him 
as  he  reseated  himself. 

Her  perfect  profile  expressed  no  undue  embarrass- 
ment. Her  sweet  lips  were  still  set  and  steady,  the  long 
lashes  shut  in  the  trouble  her  eyes  might  otherwise 


AND   BOWING,    BEGGED   THAT   SHE   WOULD   AVAiL   HERSELF  OF    IT 

Page  24 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  25 

have  betrayed.  She  had  accepted  his  trifling  service 
at  what  is  was  worth,  and,  although  he  was  very  ur- 
gently anxious  to  proffer  such  further  efforts  on  her 
behalf  as  she  might  have  use  for,  he  found  a  not  un- 
natural difficulty  in  broaching  any  other  subject.  She 
was  a  gentlewoman,  no  matter  how  anomalous  the  posi- 
tion in  which  she  found  herself,  and  he  could  not  but 
feel  that  she  would  be  amply  justified  in  snubbing  any 
advances  on  his  part.  While  he  hesitated,  at  loss 
for  suitable  speech,  the  Frenchman  returned,  trium- 
phant, his  point  gratuitously  conceded  in  order  to  get 
rid  of  him. 

"Allans"  he  ordered  abruptly,  and  she  rose  in  strange 
obedience,  bent  her  head  still  more  slightly  to  Quaint- 
ance,  and  so  departed  in  wake  of  her  cavalier,  who  had 
been  favoring  him  with  a  furtive,  suspicious  scowl. 
Quaintance  had  only  refrained  for  her  sake  from  call- 
ing him  to  account  for  that,  as  he  would  dearly  have 
liked  to  do,  and,  swallowing  his  chagrin  under  the  ne- 
cessity for  immediate  action  otherwise,  made  Martin's 
ring  with  demands  for  his  waiter,  who  presently  ambled 
toward  him  in  pained  astonishment  to  announce  that 
the  coffee  was  not  quite  ready. 

"The  deuce  with  the  coffee — and  you  too!"  com- 
mented his  irate  customer.  "Make  out  my  check — 
quick !  Take  it  out  of  this,  and  bring  me  the  change. 
Yes,  it's  a  hundred  dollars.  Hump  yourself,  now,  or 
you'll  have  me  miss  my  train." 

The  puzzled  waiter  tried  to  run  three  ways  at  once, 
and  failed  dismally  in  all  directions.  Quaintance  was 
loudly  appealing  for  someone  capable  of  finding  his 
hat  and  coat,  when  from  without  resounded  the  honk 
of  a  motor-horn,  a  hoarse  cry  as  of  rage,  and  a  long- 


26  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

drawn  howl  followed  by  a  volley  of  fierce  execrations 
in  French.  In  frantic  haste  to  find  out  what  had  hap- 
pened he  made  for  the  Broadway  exit,  sure  that  it  had 
been  the  fat  Frenchman's  voice  he  had  heard. 

From  its  porch  he  caught  sight  of  that  individual, 
hatless,  dust-streaked,  striking  foolish,  hysterical  at- 
titudes in  the  street,  shaking  his  fist  fiercely  after  a 
small  motor-car  which  was  progressing  uptown  at  <i 
pace  well  within  the  speed  limit  and  yet  too  swift  to  be 
overtaken.  A  mob  was  gathering  about  the  angry 
foreigner  and  jeering  at  his  antics,  but  he  was  too  full 
of  other  grievances  to  notice  that.  Quaintance  thought 
joyfully  that  now  would  be  a  convenient  time  to  ad- 
minister the  thrashing  which  he  so  richly  deserved,  and 
was  half-way  across  the  sidewalk  when  a  surface  car 
came  clanking  up,  the  Frenchman  snatched  up  his  hat, 
scrambled  on  board,  and  by  such  means  escaped,  all 
unwittingly,  the  vengeance  which  would  otherwise 
most  assuredly  have  overtaken  him. 

"Too  late,  eh?"  said  a  voice  at  the  avenger's  elbow, 
and  Quaintance,  back  in  the  doorway,  learned  from  the 
laughing  remark  that  he  had  been  thinking  aloud. 

"Just  too  late,"  he  answered  regretfully.  "What  hap- 
pened? Did  you  notice?" 

"Not  much,"  returned  the  other,  a  man  who  had 
been  dining  at  a  table  close  to  the  windows  on  that 
side.  "The  girl  who  was  with  him  got  into  the 
automobile  and  drove  off  as  soon  as  he  had  it  cranked 
up.  He  made  a  jump  for  it — seemed  to  have  a  mistaken 
idea  that  she  ought  to  take  him  along — but  mademoi- 
selle was  too  quick  for  him  and  he  took  a  tumble,  which 
made  him  bad-tempered." 

Quaintance  nodded  his  thanks  for  the  information 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  27 

and  went  back  to  his  own  seat,  where  he  found  the 
waiter  still  counting  change.  He  had  thought  of  tak- 
ing the  next  trolley  car  up  Broadway,  on  the  off- 
chance  of  trailing  the  Frenchman,  and  then  reflected 
that  such  a  course  could  only  prove  futile.  la- 
the end  he  decided  that  he  might  as  well  have  coffee 
and  finish  his  smoke.  It  would  no  doubt  be  quite  as 
profitable  to  sit  down  and  soliloquize  there  where  he 
had  seen  the  girl,  with  the  chair  on  which  she  had  sat 
before  him  for  inspiration,  as  to  go  chasing  about  New 
York  on  any  such  bootless  errand. 

He  sat  still,  therefore,  and  took  counsel  with  himself 
concerning  the  past  and  the  future.  The  present  was 
all  too  blank  now  to  interest  him.  Life  had  lost  its 
sparkle,  gone  flat,  Martin's  was  almost  quiet,  and  half 
empty. 

"That's  the  second  chance  I've  missed  to-day,"  he 
muttered,  very  regretfully,  chin  on  one  palm  and  star- 
ing intently  at  the  tablecloth.  "I  wish  she  had  given 
me  just  half  an  inkling  of  her  ideas  and  I'd  have  taken 
care  of  that  cad  for  her.  I  might  have  gathered  as 
much,  of  course,  but — I'm  far  too  dense.  It's  evident 
that  my  wanderings  haven't  sharpened  my  wits. 

"The  third  time  may  be  more  lucky,  but — I'm  afraid 
the  prospects  of  a  third  time  are  altogether  too  thin  to 
hang  any  hopes  on.  I've  thrown  away  opportunity 

twice,  and What  can  I  do  to  retrieve  it?    I'm  more 

alone  in  this  mob  than  I  ever  was  in  Africa.  I  don't 
suppose  there's  a  soul  in  the  city  I  know,  and  there 
certainly  isn't  a  single  soul  who  knows  me." 

Sunk  in  such  depressing  reflections  and  puffing  dis- 
consolately at  his  cigar  he  looked  up  without  curiosity 
as  an  elderly-looking,  grey-haired  individual,  in 


28  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

strictly  correct  evening  dress,  who  had  been  regarding 
him  with  a  good  deal  of  interest  and  unremarked  from 
a  near  table,  came  forward  and  stopped  beside  him. 

"H'lo!  Quaintance,"  observed  the  stranger,  and  the 
object  of  his  attention  could  scarcely  control  the  start 
of  surprise  and  dismay  with  which  he  had  thus  heard 
again  the  name  he  had  just  discarded.  But  he  gazed 
with  blank  lack  of  understanding  for.a-'brief  moment 
at  his  interlocutor,  and,  dropping  his  eyes  again,  shook 
his  head  in  silent  negation. 

He  had  not  the  faintest  idea  who  the  other  might  be, 
but,  mindful  of  his  late  encounter  with  a  still  more 
blatant  species  of  confidence-man,  and  grimly  deter- 
mined that  his  own  incognito  must  be  preserved  at  all 
costs,  was  now  prepared  to  dispute  his  identity  with  any 
who  might  be  rash  enough  to  question  his  claim  to  the 
name  of  Newman. 

He  shook  his  head,  decidedly,  and,  picking  up  the 
pile  of  change  before  him,  proceeded  to  count  it  with 
care,  in  token  that  the  subject  must  be  considered 
closed. 

But  the  inquirer  was  not  to  be  put  off  so  easily. 

"Your  name's  not  Quaintance,  eh?"  he  demanded 
briskly.  "And  you  don't  happen  to  have  a  couple  of 
pure  rose-diamonds  in  one  of  your  waistcoat-pockets, 
do  you?" 

Quaintance,  his  chin  thrust  suddenly  forward,  his 
eyes  showing  danger-signals,  stared  him  fixedly  in  the 
face. 

"No,  sir.     I  don't,"  he  answered  categorically. 

The  unknown  was  quite  oblivious  to  that  warning. 

"The  last  time  I  met  you,"  he  remarked  blandly, 
"your  name  was  Quaintance.  And  you  did  happen  to 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  29 

have  a  couple  of  pure  rose-diamonds  in  one  of  your 
waistcoat-pockets." 

He  looked  quickly  round  the  room,  and  then  sat 
down,  deliberately,  facing  Quaintance  from  the  sacred 
chair. 


CHAPTER  III 

O'FERRAL  HEARS  OF  A  FRIEND'S  SAD  FATE  IN  THE  LAND 
OF  OPHIR 

Quaintance  was  quick  to  wrath. 

"Who  the  devil  are  you?"  he  asked  hotly,  forgetting 
in  his  growing  irritation  the  deference  due  to  grey 
hairs.  But  in  that  respect  he  had  some  excuse,  since 
the  persistent  stranger  was  of  a  surprisingly  active  ap- 
pearance for  all  his  elderly  air,  and  indeed  looked  cap- 
able of  giving  a  good  account  of  himself  if  words 
should  lead  to  deeds  as  it  seemed  they  would. 

"Who  the  devil  are  you,  sir?  And  what  d'ye  mean 
by  your  ridiculous  statements!  Get  up  off  that  chair 
— this  table's  reserved." 

He  had  spoken  in  a  low  tone,  and  menacingly,  but 
the  other  did  not  budge. 

"If  your  name's  not  Quaintance,"  pursued  that  in- 
truder, eyeing  him  imperturbably,  his  face  growing 
strangely  familiar  to  Quaintance  returning  his  gaze, 
"If  your  name's  not  Quaintance  what  alias  are  you 
.using,  you  rascal?  Sit  still!  Don't  make  a  disturb- 
ance. I  know  you.  Look  here." 

He  laid  one  hand  on  the  white  tablecloth,  and 
Quaintance  curbed  his  own  intention  of  throwing  him 
across  the  room  in  time  and  no  more  to  observe  the 
diamond-shaped  scar  on  its  palm.  He  sank  back  into 
his  seat,  and  his  expression  of  choler  gave  way  to  one 

30 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  31 

of  helpless  bewilderment.  He  looked  limply  at  his 
vis-a-vis,  with  brows  knit  in  a  vain  effort  to  under- 
stand. 

"Is — is  that  you,  O'Ferral!"  he  whispered  weakly, 
admitting  his  own  identity  without  further  argument. 
And  the  elderly-looking  man's  haggard,  clean-shaven 
face  wrinkled  into  a  friendly  smile  as  he  nodded  quick 
affirmation. 

"I'm  O'Ferral,  sure  enough,"  he  retorted  with  great 
conviction,  "or  at  least  I'm  his  mortal  remains  in  a  civi- 
lized shirt.  I  didn't  think  that  would  have  made  such 
a  difference,  Steve!" 

"But  I  could  have  sworn  you  were  still  on  the  Upper 
Congo,"  objected  Quaintance,  still  more  than  dubious 
as  to  the  evidence  of  his  own  eyes  and  ears.  "You 
told  me  you'd  be  there  all  winter,  and — What  in  God's 
name  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself  since  I  saw  you 
last!  You  were  thirty  then,  and — you're  on  the 
wrong  side  of  sixty  now!  What's  happened?  I  don't 
understand." 

"If  you  were  one  of  the  Where,  How,  and  All  About 
It  Brigade  from  Newspaper  Row,"  O'Ferral  returned 
easily,  "you'd  know  better  than  to  bank  on  my  being 
anywhere  at  any  time.  Here  to-day  and  only  heaven 
knows  where  to-morrow's  our  motto,  my  boy. 

"I'm  older  and  uglier  than  I  was  this  time  last  year, 
but  I  can't  help  that.  Thereby  wags  a  tale — which  I'll 
tell  you  presently. 

"What's  this,  hey?  Sparkling  Burgundy — and  a  full 
bottle !  Seems  to  me  that  you're  wasting'  the  mercies 
nowadays,  Steve.  I  can  remember  the  time  when  a 
single  teaspoonful  of  that  would  have  been  worth  more 
to  us  than  your  rose-diamonds  were  then." 


32  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

He  spoke  conversationally,  whiffing  at  a  black  cigar- 
ette, giving  Quaintance  time  to  recover  from  his  mani- 
fest astonishment. 

The  latter's  brain  was  still  in  a  whirl,  but  he  was, 
none  the  less,  overjoyed  by  O'Ferral's  most  unlocked 
for  appearance.  There  was  that  between  himself  and 
the  quick-witted,  volatile  newspaper  man  which 
formed  an  unbreakable  bond,  and  he  knew  that  he 
could  not  have  gained  a  more  congenial  companion  or 
stauncher  comrade  at  such  a  juncture. 

"That  bottle's  gone  flat  long  ago.  We'll  have  an- 
other," he  answered,  and  once  more  signalled  to  his  still 
expectant  waiter,  who  gleefully  whisked  away  the  al- 
most untasted  wine  and  brought  back  a  fresh  supply. 

"Gad!  I'm  glad  to  see  you  again — although  I  can't 
altogether  commend  your  method  of  introducing 
yourself.  It's  a  good  thing  I  didn't  get  up  to  bounce 
you  before  you  gave  me  the  cue.  I  took  you  for  a 
high-class  gold-brick  artist  at  first.  I  couldn't  imagine 
how  you  had  got  hold  of  my  old — my  name." 

O'Ferral  raised  quizzical  eyebrows. 

"Your  old — your  name,"  he  remarked.  "What's  the 
game?  Let  me  in  on  the  rules  at  least.  I'm  close  as 
an  oyster. 

"Have  you  changed  your  name?  Why?  What's 
the  new  one?  We'll  get  along  more  understandingly 
once  we've  swapped  stories." 

Quaintance  thought  for  a  moment  before  replying. 
He  had  not  intended  to  take  anyone  into  his  confi- 
dence, but,  indifferent  as  he  was  to  other  people's 
opinions,  he  would  not  have  had  O'Ferral  misconstrue 
"his  motives  if  that  could  be  helped.  He  promptly 
made  up  his  mind  to  trust  his  friend  fully. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  33- 

"My  story's  a  somewhat  tangled  one,"  he  at  length 
returned.  "Let's  hear  yours  first." 

"Mine's  soon  told,"  said  O'Ferral  readily.  "After 
we  parted  company  on  the  Congo  I  went  still  further 
up-river.  Got  a  bad  go  of  fever  at  a  village  there,  and 
was  laid  low  for  close  on  three  months.  Then  orders , 
reached  me  from  Newspaper  Row  that  I  was  to  cross 
country  to  the  coast,  picking  up  pointers  by  the  way 
about  the  alleged  slave-trade  in  the  Free  State  and 
Portuguese  West  Africa.  I  came  out  at  Mossamedes, 
where  I  found  a  cable  waiting  to  hurry  me  home.  Here 
I  am." 

Thus  simply  did  he  epitomize  a  twelvemonth  of  the 
severest  travail  a  man  might  well  undertake,  and 
Quaintance,  reading  between  the  lines,  understood  all 
he  had  left  untold. 

For  the  two  had  been  more  than  friends.  They  had 
endured  together  in  darkest  Africa,  and  there  was  also 
a  debt  between  them.  The  scar  on  O'Ferral's  right 
hand  had  been  left  there  by  a  spear  aimed  at  Quaint- 
ance's  heart,  and  which  had  come  very  near  to  achiev- 
ing its  object. 

But  Quaintance's  recollections  of  the  correspondent 
had  been  of  a  big,  stalwart  man,  moustached  and 
bearded,  fair-haired,  tanned  face  half-hidden  beneath  a 
broad  mushroom  helmet,  smoked  glasses  hiding  its 
kindly,  humorous  eyes,  a  veil  of  mosquito  netting  en- 
shrouding all.  Small  wonder,  then,  that  the  sight  of 
the  slender,  elderly  elegant  in  evening  dress  had  not 
recalled  to  his  memory  the  unkempt  traveler,  booted 
and  belted,  rifle  on  shoulder,  revolver  and  machete  on 
hip,  confronting,  fearless,  the  manifold  risks  of  a  cruel 
death  in  the  desert. 


34  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

He  eyed  his  fellow-adventurer,  escaped  from  that 
death  at  such  cost  and  but  by  a  hairbreadth,  with  grave 
approval.  They  were  both  of  the  same  scarce  type 
which  bases  all  its  beliefs  upon  scant  speech  and  lavish 
performance. 

O'Ferral  refilled  both  glasses,  and  glanced  inquir- 
ingly at  him. 

"Don't  tell  me  anything  you'd  rather  not,"  he 
begged.  "I'll  take  you  on  trust — if  you'll  just  let  me 
know  what  name  I'm  to  call  you  by." 

"I'd  rather  you  heard  the  whole  story,"  Quaintance 
assured  him,  "but  it's  such  a  long  one  I  don't  quite 
know  where  to  cut  in.  I'll  have  to  start  way  back  to 
make  it  more  clear  to  you.  Try  one  of  these  cigars — 
they're  good — and  I'll  go  ahead." 

They  both  lit  up,  Quaintance  prolonging  the  action 
a  little,  and  then  he  began  without  further  preface. 

"My  story's  a  somewhat  tangled  one.  It  starts  with 
a  blood-fued.  You  know  what  that  means — in  the 
South,  O'Ferral." 

He  paused.  His  friend  nodded  assent,  without 
speaking.  He  went  on  in  a  lower  undertone,  his  eyes 
kindling. 

"There's  one  in  my  family.  In  it,  mark  you,  and  not 
with  any  outsider.  My  father's  only  brother,  Miles 
Quaintance,  began  it — and  kept  it  up — till  he  died,  last 
Christmas,  in  San  Francisco.  He  murdered  my  father. 
Not  with  knife  or  shotgun,  but  legally  and  by  inches. 
It  would  have  been  easier  to  put  up  with  the  other 
way. 

"I'm  the  last  of  the  Quaintances  living,  and — I  must 
carry  on  the  quarrel.  My  account's  with  the  dead 
man,  Miles." 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  35 

O'Ferral  stared  at  him,  brows  bent,  listening  closely. 

"There  were  more  of  them  and  they  were  better  off 
before  the  war.  But  that  cleaned  them  out  in  more 
ways  than  one.  My  father  and  Uncle  Miles  were  the 
only  two  of  the  old  stock  left  at  the  roll-call  in  '65,  and 
they  were  very  hard  pushed  after  that  to  make  both 
ends  meet  at  the  Manor.  Peace  and  poverty  came 
hand  in  hand. 

"My  father  was  the  elder  brother.  The  Manor  was 
his,  though  it  was  of  no  value  then.  My  uncle  had 
nothing. 

"They  both  fell  in  love  presently  with  an  equally 
penniless  Southern  beauty,  and — she  turned  Miles 
down. 

"It  was  because  he  had  nothing,  he  said,  and  he  left 
home  on  their  wedding-eve,  swearing  that  he  would 
make  her  rue  the  day  she  had  jilted  him. 

"They  heard  no  more  of  him  for  a  long  time  after 
that.  They  were  very  happy  together. 

"But  in  other  ways  my  father  was  most  unlucky. 
Those  were  dark  days  in  the  South.  Year  after  year 
went  against  him,  and  mortgage  succeeded  mortgage 
until  at  last  he  found  himself  in  the  direst  straits,  while 
most  of  his  friends  were  in  much  the  same  predica- 
ment. 

"But  he  made  a  plucky  fight  for  it,  till,  the  first  year 
the  crop  showed  promise  of  paying  expenses,  the  mort- 
gages were  called  in  wholesale,  not  only  in  his  case  but 
from  all  his  neighbors.  That  bred  a  regular  panic 
throughout  the  district,  where  money  was  tight  enough 
already,  and,  since  there  was  no  help  for  it,  the  Manor 
had  to  go.  But  my  father  died  in  it  first,  of  a  broken 
heart,  not  knowing  that  it  was  his  brother  Miles  who 


36  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

had  struck  the  blow  which  killed  him.  That  came  out 
later. 

"I  was  a  very  small  boy  then,  but  I  learned  in  time 
that  my  wealthy  uncle  was  the  best  hated  man  in  Cov- 
ington  County,  and  why.  He  had  never  set  foot  in  it, 
either,  since  he  had  started  for  San  Francisco,  where 
he  made  his  pile.  How  he  made  it,  I  have  no  earthly 
idea. 

"After  my  father  was  dead,  my  mother  suffered  all 
sorts  of  petty  persecution  at  Miles  Quaintance's  hands. 
I  found  that  out  too  late,  O'Ferral,  but  I  give  you  my 
word  that  a  more  malignant  scoundrel  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  conceive.  And  she,  all  the  time,  was  sacrific- 
ing herself  to  give  me  an  education.  And  I  didn't 
know. 

"She  even  managed,  out  of  the  pittance  she  had  to 
live  on,  to  send  me  across  to  the  School  of  Mines  in 
Paris,  and,  when  I  got  home  again,  I  heard  for  the 
first  time  of  the  man  who  had  made  life  a  burden  to  her 
for  so  long.  I  wanted  to  go  West  and  cast  accounts 
with  him  then,  but  she  wouldn't  have  that.  I  owed  it 
to  her  to  do  as  she  wished,  and  I  waited. 

"I  had  not  been  with  her  for  more  than  a  month 
when  I  had  the  offer  of  an  opening  with  what  seemed 
very  brilliant  prospects  on  the  diamond  fields  at  Kim- 
berley,  in  South  Africa.  We  talked  it  over,  and  she 
thought  that  I  should  take  it.  I  believe  now  that  she 
was  only  anxious  to  see  me  safe  beyond  the  sphere  of 
my  uncle's  influence.  She  feared  for  me,  after  what 
had  befallen  my  father.  But  she  herself  would  not 
leave  the  cottage  at  Covington  where  she  had  lived, 
even  while  I  was  in  New  York,  since  we  were  expelled 
from  the  Manor.  She'd  rather  wait  there,  she  said, 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  37 

until  I  was  ready  to  buy  back  our  home,  and  that 
wouldn't  be  very  long. 

"It  wasn't  so  very  long  either,  for  I  did  well  in  Cape 
Colony,  but — I  was  too  late  after  all.  She  had  been 
dead  and  buried  for  six  weeks  before  I  heard  of  it,  and 
— that  hit  me  harder  than  anything  else  I've  ever  had 
to  put  up  with.  It  knocked  me  all  out  of  time  to  think 

that  she'd  never  know  I  had  sent  home  the  money 

The  Manor  was  in  the  market  at  that  time,  and " 

His  voice  shook  slightly.  He  stopped.  O'Ferral's 
eyes  were  intently  fixed  on  his  own  cigar. 

"However,"  Quaintance  continued  steadily,  "the  old 
home's  mine  at  this  moment,  and  what  she  wished  is 
accomplished. 

"I  felt  that  I  couldn't  stay  on  in  Kimberley  after 
that,  and  I  didn't  care  to  come  back  to  America  in  the 
meantime.  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  everything  I 
had  known.  I  didn't  much  care  what  happened  to  me. 

"I  gathered  my  other  assets  together,  and  went 
off  north,  making  more  money  I  did  not  need  by  the 
way.  I  crossed  the  Transvaal  and  Bechuanaland,  and 
wandered  on  through  Central  Africa,  exploring  and 
shooting,  doing  anything  to  kill  time.  If  I  had  been  a 
little  less  careless  it  might  have  killed  me,  as  I  some- 
times half  hoped  it  would.  But  the  more  foolhardiness 
I  displayed  the  more  miraculously  did  I  scrape  through. 
It  was  when  a  lion,  whose  mate  I  had  shot,  chased  me 
into  a  crack  in  the  ground  and  kept  me  there  all  one 
afternoon  that  I  came  across  the  rose-diamonds.  Some 
day  I'll  go  back  there  and  look  for  more — in  the  Lobisa 
country,  not  far  from  the  old  Loangwa  trail.  Don't 
forget  that,  O'Ferral,  if  you're  ever  hard  up  and  I'm 
not  on  hand  to  help  you  out." 


38  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

O'Ferral  shook  his  grey  head  decidedly.  He, 
too,  had  had  his  fill  in  the  Land  of  Ophir. 

"I  needn't  bore  you  with  all  the  details  of  my  wan- 
derings during  those  years.  You've  heard  some  of 
them  already,  and  others  you  can  imagine  better  than 
most  men.  But  after  you  and  I  had  met  and  parted,  I 
put  northwest,  meaning  to  cross  French  Congo  and 
the  Cameroons  to  British  territory.  The  carriers  I  had 
with  me  struck  and  turned  tail  when  we  reached  the 
Baghirmi  country,  but,  as  luck  would  have  it,  I  ran 
across  a  Frenchman's  convoy  ten  days  out  from  Fort 
Bretonnet,  and  he  carried  me  in  there.  It  seemed  that 
I  couldn't  lose  myself,  no  matter  how  hard  I  tried. 

"I  had  arranged  some  time  before  to  have  my  mail 
sent  up  to  the  fort  from  the  coast,  not  feeling  sure 
whether  I  might  not  break  back  east  from  that  point 
toward  Darfur,  and  when  I  arrived  I  found  a  letter 
awaiting  me.  Think  of  that — one  letter — after  so  long. 
It  made  me  sour  to  think  that  I  counted  for  so  little 
among  men — although,  of  course,  it  was  all  my  own 
fault. 

"But,  as  it  turned  out,  that  one  was  more  than  suffi- 
cient. It  was  from  my  precious  uncle,  a  post-mortem 
message,  forwarded  by  my  own  lawyers,  and  had  been 
following  me  about  for  a  long  time.  I  wish  it  had 
never  found  me." 

He  swallowed  a  sip  of  wine,  looked  unseeingly  round 
the  now  almost  empty  room,  and  went  on  again. 

"My  uncle  was  dead,  and,  dying,  he  had  repented  the 
work  of  his  lifetime.  He  wanted  to  purchase  absolu- 
tion for  that  by  paying  blood-money  to  me,  the  son  of 
the  man  he  had  murdered.  That  shows  you  the  sort 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  39 

of  fellow  he  was.  It  makes  me  hot  to  think  of  it,  even 
now. 

"And  that  wasn't  all.  There  was  a  condition  at- 
tached in  the  shape  of  his  adopted  daughter,  the  orphan 
child  of  a  Southern  soldier  he  had  befriended,  whom  I 
must  marry  in  order  to  inherit  his  millions.  Thus, 
quoth  he,  the  most  unfortunate  feud  which  had  sun- 
dered us  while  he  lived  would  be  healed.  And,  for 
added  argument,  he  informed  me  that,  if  I  failed  to 
comply  with  his  wishes  within  a  twelvemonth,  the 
money  he  had  amassed  would  all  go  to  charity,  while 
the  girl,  whom  he  had  brought  up  in  luxury,  would  be 
left  penniless. 

"There  was  an  infernal  arrangement  for  youf  He 
was  as  cunning  as  he  was  cruel.  He  must  have  known 
that  nothing  would  tempt  me  to  touch  a  penny  of  his, 
and  how  it  would  hurt  me  to  harm  an  innocent  girl. 

"That  sickened  me  of  Fort  Bretonnet.  The  French- 
men were  very  hospitable  and  begged  me  to  stay,  but 
I  wanted  to  get  back  into  the  wilds  by  myself  and 
think.  The  life  I  had  been  leading  had  left  me  half  a 
savage.  In  my  hurry  I  got  together  a  worse  gang  of 
rascals  than  those  who  had  just  deserted  me,  and  set 
off  with  them  for  the  lake  north  of  Palla,  from  which 
you  can  reach  a  waterway  that  will  take  you  through 
to  Nigeria. 

"It  was  most  damnable  going,  but  I  kept  them  at  it 
until  we  had  crossed  the  Cameroon  border,  and  there 
they  in  turn  went  back  on  me,  bolting  one  night  with 
all  my  trade  goods,  copper  wire  and  calico  I  carried 
with  me  to  pay  my  way  in  presents,  leaving  me  only 
my  canoe  with  my  personal  effects  and  a  few  provisions 
in  the  cruellest  corner  in  Africa. 


40  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"I  sat  up  and  called  myself  names  then,  but  it  was 
too  late  to  number  off  all  the  different  sorts  of  a  fool 
I  felt,  and  I  thought  that  I  might  after  all  reach  Yola, 
where  the  British  have  a  garrison. 

"The  natives  round  there  are  cannibals,  as  you  know, 
and  I  didn't  do  much  traveling  by  daylight,  so  that  I 
made  pretty  poor  progress.  It  took  me  forty-eight 
hours  to  reach  the  fork  of  the  Benue,  with  the  current, 
and  that  was  forty-eight  miles,  I  reckoned. 

"However,  I  got  across  to  the  western  bank  before 
daybreak,  and  drew  in  under  the  growth  by  the  river- 
edge  so's  to  escape  observation.  It  was  steaming  hot, 
and  the  place  stank.  You  know  the  rank,  rotten 
smell  of  dead  marigold.  I  couldn't  sleep,  tired  out  as 
I  was,  so  I  ran  through  my  uncle's  letter  again,  just  to 
pass  the  time,  although  I  had  thought  it  threadbare 
already.  But  I  couldn't  think  what  I  was  going  to  do 
about  it — I  mean  for  the  girl. 

"I  knew  nothing  of  her,  and  she  less  of  me,  but  she 
at  least  had  never  done  me  or  mine  harm,  and  it  seemed 
hard  that  she  alone  should  be  the  scapegoat.  I  was 
independent  financially — I  had  sight  drafts  with  me 
for  all  I  possessed,  except  the  Manor,  and  the  two  rose- 
diamonds  as  well.  So  long  as  I  scraped  through  alive 
with  these  I  need  never  want.  But  with  her  it  was 
quite  different,  and  that  through  no  fault  of  her  own. 

"Well,  I  was  lying  there  in  the  shade,  sweating,  body 
and  brains,  when  I  saw  a  canoe  coming  down-river 
round  the  bend,  and  dropped  the  letter  to  pick  up  my 
rifle.  I  was  half  afraid  that  I  had  been  spotted.  But 
no  more  followed  it,  and  there  was  only  a  single  man 
in  the  one  I  had  sighted.  He  was  sitting  bolt  upright, 


with  his  paddle  athwartships,  doing  no  work  and  drift- 
ing along  at  an  easy  pace. 

"When  he  came  a  little  nearer  I  saw  he  was  wear- 
ing a  helmet,  which  gave  me  a  jolt.  I  couldn't  con- 
ceive what  a  white  man  could  be  doing  there  alone, 
but,  in  any  case,  I  hailed  him  several  times — and  he 
paid  not  the  slightest  attention.  An  eddy  caught  the 
canoe,  and  it  went  sagging  away  toward  midstream. 
On  the  spur  of  the  moment  I  put  out  after  him. 

"I  raised  my  voice  as  I  ran  alongside,  but  still  he 
did  not  reply,  and  a  single  glance  showed  me  that  he 
was  dead.  They  had  done  things  to  him  as  well  as 
killed  him,  for — he  had  no  face.  He  was  held  in  po- 
sition by  two  short  spears,  one  under  each  shoulder- 
blade,  a  haft  made  fast  to  each  gunwale.  I  felt  sick, 
very  sick,  then,  O'Ferral. 

"But  he  had  been  a  white  man,  and  I  was  bound  to 
do  something.  I  drove  both  canoes  back  among  the 
branches,  and  picketed  them  with  my  paddles  while  I 
— held  an  inquest  on  him.  He  was  very  raggedly 
dressed,  could  not  have  been  either  soldier,  skypilot  or 
trader,  and  it  wasn't  a  nice  thing  to  have  to  do,  but  I 
did  it.  I  wanted  some  clue.  I  found  none. 

"As  soon  as  I'd  finished  I  flopped  down  in  my  own 
craft,  and  my  fingers  fell  on  my  uncle's  letter. 

"That  gave  me  my  cue  like  a  flash. 

"Miles  Quaintance  had  left  me  one  loophole.  There 
was  a  provision  in  his  will  to  the  effect  that,  if  I  should 
die  during  the  twelve  months'  grace  he  allowed  me, 
his  money  would  go  to  the  girl. 

"I  may  have  been  half  mad  then,  but  it  seemed  quite 
simple.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  shift  my  identity  on 
to  the  shoulders  of  this  poor  fellow.  He  had  none,  so 


42  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

that  I  would  be  perfectly  free  to  choose  a  fresh  one  for 
myself.  There  was  not  a  soul  in  the  wide  world  to 
wear  mourning  for  me,  and  I  could  see  no  reason  what- 
soever against  the  exchange. 

"So  I  set  to  work  and  did  the  thing  thoroughly. 
When  I  was  through  with  it,  even  you  would  have 
sworn  from  the  evidence  that  it  was  Stephen  Quaint- 
ance  who  presently  went  drifting  downstream  toward 
Yola,  stone-dead. 

"He  carried  with  him  every  scrap  of  identifiable 
property  I  possessed — except  the  drafts  and  the  dia- 
monds, of  course — and  that  was  more  than  sufficient 
to  satisfy  any  coroner's  jury.  I  knew  that  he  couldn't 
help  reaching  Yola,  and  that  I  could  trust  the  English- 
men there  to  see  everything  shipshape,  and  send  the 
news  on. 

"I  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  making  a  will  bequeath- 
ing all  Stephen  Quaintance  possessed  to  A.  Newman, 
endorsed  my  drafts  to  that  name,  and  practiced  my  new 
signature,  which  is  as  unlike  the  old  one  as  I  could 
make  it." 

"What  does  A.  stand  for?"  interrupted  O'Ferral. 

"Oh,  anything.    Call  it  Ananias — I  don't  care. 

"So  that  now,  you  see,  the  girl  will  get  my  uncle's 
money,  to  which  she's  justly  entitled,  while  I'm  as  well 
off  as  ever,  and — no  one's  the  worse.  There  are  still 
a  few  weeks  of  the  year  to  run,  but  they'll  surely  have 
proof  of  my  death  before  these  are  up,  and  that  will 
settle  the  whole  thing  satisfactorily.  Don't  you  think 
so,  O'Ferral?" 

O'Ferral  was  silent  for  some  time,  and  then  nodded 
gravely.  And  Ouaintance's  face  cleared. 

"I  think  I'd  have  done  much  the  same  in  your  place," 
said  his  friend.  "It  wasn't  an  easy  one,  and  you've 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  43 

certainly  cut  your  way  out  of  it  pretty  effectually.  If 
no  unforeseen  complications  arise,  I  don't  see  why  you 
should  ever  have  cause  to  regret  what  you've  done." 

"I  think  I've  provided  for  every  eventuality,"  Quaint- 
ance  asserted  with  some  return  of  his  usual  cheerful 
self-confidence.  I  think  I've  made  everything  safe  for 
the  girl — and  myself." 

O'Ferral  nodded  again. 

"You've  done  what  you  could,"  he  said  briefly.  "No 
man  can  do  more.  It's  up  to  fate  now,  and —  How 
did  you  get  home?  What  happened  then?" 

"I  had  a  pretty  rough  time  of  it  after  that,  living 
Lord  knows  how  and  not  knowing  where  to  turn.  I 
didn't  dare  to  go  on  to  Yola,  lest  I  should  spoil  all  by 
my  appearance  there,  and  I  had  staked  too  much  to 
risk  that.  But  providence  preserved  me  in  my  folly. 
I  got  as  far  north  as  Lake  Tchad,  where  I  was  picked 
up  by  an  exploring  party,  whom  I  told  truthfully  that 
I  had  been  deserted  by  my  carriers,  and  they  were  not 
over-inquisitive.  With  them  I  worked  toward  the 
coast,  and  as  soon  as  I  struck  quick  transport  I  hur- 
ried on.  They  know  me  in  Lokoja  and  Forgados  as 
Newman,  and  you  won't  forget  now,  O'Ferral,  that 
Quaintance  is  dead  and  buried.  I  would  have  told  no 
one  but  you  my  story,  and  for  that  matter,  no  one  else 
is  interested  enough  in  me  to  ask  any  questions. 

"Fill  your  glass,  and  let's  talk  about  something  else.'' 

O'Ferral  took  his  elbows  off  the  table,  and  rolled 
himself  a  cigarette.  He  had  listened  with  the  closest 
attention  to  his  friend's  strange  tale,  and  was  wonder- 
ing what  the  sequel  might  be.  But  Quaintance,  hav- 
ing relieved  his  mind,  was  already  occupied  with  other 
and  more  urgent  ideas,  and  presently  spoke  again. 
"Did  you  notice  a  girl  who  went  out  just  as  you 


44  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

must  have  entered?"  he  asked  ingenuously,  and  the 
correspondent,  waking  from  visions  of  the  wild  world 
and  Africa,  of  a  sluggish,  broad,  brown  river,  a  dead 
man  afloat  in  a  frail  canoe  on  its  currents,  came  back 
to  a  sudden  consciousness  that  he  was  in  Martin's,  be- 
tween Fifth  Avenue  and  Broadway  in  New  York,  that 
close  to  him  crowded  street  cars  were  whirring  past, 
that  everywhere  there  was  brisk  life  and  light  and  bus- 
tle. Stray  parties  were  already  appearing  for  supper. 
The  other  tables  were  shining  afresh,  under  shaded 
candles,  with  snowy  linen,  bright  crystal  and  cutlery. 

"What's  that?"  he  inquired,  blinking,  bewildered, 
and  Quaintance  repeated  the  question. 

"A  girl,  eh?  Oh,  yes,  I  noticed  a  girl — and  a  man 
— and  you,  all  at  the  same  time.  I  was  much  inclined 
to  assault  and  batter  that  rat-faced  scoundrel  myself. 

"  I  came  in  here  at  your  heels,  after  he'd  got  away,  to 
find  out  whether  it  was  really  you  I  had  seen  on  the 
street." 

"Have  you  any  idea  who  she  is?"  Quaintance  ques- 
tioned with  all  the  indifference  he  could  assume,  but 
O'Ferral  shook  his  grey  head. 

"Not  the  very  slightest,"  he  answered,  carelessly 
also,  but  with  a  low  laugh.  His  friend's  affectation  had 
not  escaped  his  observance.  "Not  the  very  slightest, 
Steve.  Why?" 

Quaintance  did  not  at  once  reply. 

"I'm  going  to  buy  a  motor  car  in  the  morning,"  said 
he.  "Where's  the  best  place  to  get  one?" 

"What  sort  of  a  car?" 

"The  best." 

"But  for  what  purpose?" 

"To  find  that  girl." 


CHAPTER  IV 

FANCHETTE    FINDS    ONLY    A    HUNDRED    FRANCS    IN    THE 

COFFER 

The  girl  had  not  been  unaware  of  Quaintance's 
covert  scrutiny.  It  had  hurt  her  more,  perhaps,  than 
anything  else  she  had  had  to  endure  since  she  had  en- 
countered her  most  unwelcome  companion.  And  that 
had  not  been  either  little  or  light. 

She  had  intuitively  adjudged  him  a  gentleman,  and 
had  been  by  so  much  the  more  ashamed  that  he  should 
see  her  in  such  a  plight.  The  first  swift  glance  in  which 
her  eyes  had  met  his  for  a  fateful  moment  had  carried 
to  him  an  appeal  for  compassionate  surmise.  That  he 
had  but  partially  understood  ....  And  there  was  so 
much  more  he  might  wholly  misunderstand. 

The  exotic  atmosphere  of  Martin's  was  a  strange  one 
to  her.  She  could  not  but  know  that  she  must  be  con- 
spicuous in  it,  and  yet,  but  for  the  consciousness  of 
his  regard,  she  might  have  left  it  unmoved  by  the 
thought  that  the  throng  there  had  been  witnesses  of 
her  discomfiture. 

She  had  remained  unconcerned  enough  outwardly 
during  the  meal,  but  felt  sure  that,  none  the  less,  every- 
one must  have  seen  what  she  was  suffering.  And 
when  at  last  it  came  to  an  end  she  rose  with  a  sense  of 
relief  inexpressible,  only  to  be  left  standing  among  all 
those  men  and  women  who  seemed  to  have  no  faintest 

45 


'46  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

scruples  as  to  staring  her  out  of  countenance.  She 
was  much  inclined  to  refuse  the  courtesy  Quaintance 
proffered  her,  and  seek  safety  in  instant  flight. 

But,  as  it  turned  out,  she  would  not  have  had  time 
for  that,  and  the  grave-faced  young  man  in  the  blue 
serge  suit  did  not  venture  to  address  her,  as  she  had 
half  feared  he  might.  Her  bemuddled  escort  came 
back  to  her  almost  immediately.  She  rose,  and  fol- 
lowed him  out  of  the  room. 

She  had  stipulated  ere  entering  the  restaurant  that 
they  were  to  part  at  the  door,  where  her  car  was  wait- 
ing, but  the  wine  he  had  imbibed  had  rendered  him 
quarrelsome,  and  when  she  reminded  him  of  his  prom- 
ise he  contradicted  her  flatly.  She  saw  that  any  further 
sacrifice  she  might  make  in  order  to  escape  open  rup- 
ture with  him  would  be  in  vain,  and  was  almost  des- 
perate. But  she  silently  took  the  left-hand  seat  at  his 
order,  and  he  went  forward  to  set  the  engine  in  motion. 

At  sight  of  him  stooping  over  it,  a  sudden,  rash  res- 
olution inspired  her  to  slip  to  the  wheel.  She  laid  one 
hand  on  the  horn,  and,  as  he  rose,  his  purpose  accom- 
plished, squeezed  out  a  single  loud  blast  which  caused 
liim  to  spring  toward  the  pavement.  Ere  he  could  un- 
derstand what  had  happened,  she  had  set  the  lever, 
with  trembling  fingers,  and  backed  away  a  few  yards. 
Broadway  was  less  busy  at  that  hour. 

She  took  her  foot  off  the  brake  and  moved  forward, 
wheeling  as  he  made  a  rush  at  her,  striking  him  full  in 
the  face  as  he  strove  to  make  good  his  footing  on  the 
off  step. 

He  stumbled  and  fell,  letting  go  his  hold  of  the  hood 
with  a  howl  of  rage.  She  put  on  speed,  dashed  safely 
over  the  cross  street  in  front  of  a  loaded  truck  which 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  47 

further  delayed  him,  and,  having  thus  made  sure  of  her 
distance,  slowed  down  to  a  more  sensible  pace,  and  so 
fled  from  him. 

Her  scarlet  lips  were  tightly  compressed  and  a  single 
furrow  on  her  white  forehead  bespoke  a  depth  of  de- 
termination which  boded  ill  for  any  who  might  seek  to 
interfere.  She  was  steeling  herself  against  a  conscience 
which  whispered  that  it  had  all  been  very  unladylike, 
and  undignified.  She  had  actually  assaulted  the  man. 
If  anyone  stopped  her  on  that  account  she  would  be  in 
a  worse  case  than  ever.  She  made  up  her  mind  that  no 
one  should  stop  her,  and  steered  with  nice  dexterity 
through  Herald  Square. 

A  few  blocks  further  on  she  turned  west  as  far  as 
Eighth  Avenue,  ran  down  to  Twenty-seventh  street, 
and,  facing  inward  again,  with  an  ever  increasing  sense 
of  security,  held  for  the  East  River  and  Thirty-fourth 
Street  Ferry. 

At  the  dock  there  she  had  five  minutes  to  wait  ere 
creeping  on  to  the  boat,  and  that  interval  she  spent 
somewhat  fearfully  in  disguising  herself  as  well  as  she 
might  in  a  motor  costume.  Duster,  cap,  and  goggles 
she  donned  in  haste,  drawing  the  collar  well  over  her 
dimpled  chin,  knotting  a  close  veil  round  the  silken 
glory  of  her  heavy  crown  of  hair.  But,  try  as  she 
might,  she  could  not  hide  from  the  eyes  of  men  all 
trace  of  her  beauty,  and  many  inquisitive  glances  were 
centred  on  her  as  she  sat  immobile  in  her  place,  the 
lights  gleaming  warmly  against  the  wild-rose  of  her 
cheeks,  her  curved  lips  rather  tremulous  now  that  the 
tense  strain  she  had  been  under  was  somewhat  relaxed. 

Long  Island  City  at  night-time  confused  her  sadly, 
and  she  went  astray  more  than  once  in  her  nervousness 


48  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

ere  striking  the  main  road  to  Jamaica.  Had  she  dared 
to  ask  directions  she  would  have  saved  the  delay,  but 
rather  than  leave  any  clue  to  her  passing  she  puzzled 
it  out  for  herself,  in  the  hope  that  she  might  be  able 
to  make  up  for  lost  time  later. 

Her  light  car  was  traveling  smoothly,  but,  not  long 
after  she  had  begun  to  put  on  speed  at  an  unfrequented 
part  of  the  road,  an  ominous  discord  warned  her  of 
coming  trouble.  It  came.  She  was  left  with  only  way 
enough  on  to  reach  the  roadside  when  the  power  failed 
her,  and  she  found  herself  stranded. 

The  mischance  was  a  most  untimely  one,  and,  tread- 
ing so  close  on  the  heels  of  that  which  she  had  just 
contrived  to  surmount  at  such  cost  to  herself,  but  for 
which  she  could  have  been  safe  at  home  long  ere  now, 
it  was  doubly  depressing.  She  knew  that  Fanchette 
would  be  frantic  with  fear  for  her.  What  she  should 
do  now  she  was  not  quite  sure. 

There  was  no  train  to  be  counted  upon  till  morning. 
To  travel  by  train  would  also  double  the  risk  of  detec- 
tion, and  it  was  for  that  very  reason  that  she  had 
elected  to  trust  to  the  car  and  her  own  ability.  It 
was  half-past  ten  by  the  clock  before  her,  too  late  to 
telegraph. 

She  bit  her  lip,  and  got  out,  since  she  had  no  option 
but  to  attempt  repair,  drawing  off  her  gauntlets,  rais- 
ing her  veil,  and  turning  down  her  coat-collar  with 
business-like  haste.  The  night  was  dark.  She  took 
one  of  the  lamps  from  its  bracket,  and,  lifting  the  bon- 
net, made  careful  search  for  the  cause  of  catastrophe. 
In  that  she  displayed  intimate  acquaintance  with  all  the 
details  of  the  mechanism,  but,  deft  as  she  was,  she  could 
not  arrive  at  any  solution  of  the  problem  set  her. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  49 

She  was  almost  in  despair  when,  looking  up,  she  saw 
two  glaring  headlights  approaching  her  from  the  direc- 
tion of  Jamaica,  and  renewed  hope  sprang  up  within 
her.  Surely  the  occupants  of  any  other  car  would  not 
pass  without  offering  assistance,  she  thought. 

In  her  urgent  need  she  even  stepped  out  into  the 
roadway,  holding  her  lamp  up  lest  they  should  speed 
by  unseeing.  But  at  that  moment  the  echo  of  a  man's 
voice,  singing  jovially,  came  down  the  wind  to  her,  and, 
hearing  it,  her  courage  ebbed  to  a  still  lower  mark. 
She  drew  back  hurriedly  and  hid  herself  behind  her 
own  tonneau  as  best  she  could,  stooping  over  the  rear 
tire  there.  The  dread  that  some  returning  roysterer 
from  Rockaway  or  Long  Beach  might  only  prove  an 
added  complication  forced  her  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  must  rely  upon  her  own  resources  and  sort  things 
out  unaided,  even  though  that  should  take  all  night. 

But  she  had  changed  her  mind  too  late.  The  dust- 
cloud  trailing  in  the  wake  of  a  fast  auto  slowed  down 
and  hung  low  in  the  dim  light,  rising  again  in  a  thick, 
eddying  whirl  as  the  brakes  were  applied  with  a  rash 
fervor  which  went  far  to  confirm  her  fears. 

"In  trouble,  comrade?"  cried  the  voice  of  one  well 
satisfied  with  himself  and  the  world  in  general,  and  a 
scratched,  shabby  car  was  drawn  up  head  to  head  with 
hers,  a  solitary  individual  descended  from  it. 

He  advanced  floridly,  puffing  a  huge  cigar,  a  tall, 
broad-shouldered  young  man,  well  set  up,  of  easy,  if 
somewhat  swaggering  carriage.  His  face  was  thin,  the 
cheek-bones  prominent,  its  skin  tanned  to  a  hue  which 
gave  his  eyes  undue  effect. 

"What's  gone  wrong?"  he  demanded  with  the  casual 
ease  of  one  accustomed  to  vouch  for  his  own  worth, 


50  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

and,  as  the  girl  rose,  facing  him  in  the  full  light  of  his 
big  head-lamps,  pursed  up  his  lips  as  if  to  whistle. 

"A  lady!"  he  exclaimed,  looking  about  him  even  as 
he  bowed  with  an  exaggerated  courtesy. 

"A  lady — and  alone.  Has  your  chauffeur  deserted 
you?  If  so,  I  hope  you'll  let  me  replace  him." 

She  would  willingly  have  informed  him  that  she  had 
a  chauffeur  in  the  near  neighborhood,  but,  little  as  she 
was  prepossessed  by  his  appearance,  she  could  not 
frame  her  lips  to  the  untruth.  He  was  not  in  the  usual 
garb  of  a  motorist,  and  she  thought  he  bore  some  re- 
semblance to  the  man  in  a  blue  serge  suit  whom  she 
had  seen  at  Martin's.  But  instinct  told  her  that  he 
was  not  to  be  described  as  gentleman,  and  that,  there- 
fore, he  could  not  be  the  same. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  as  levelly  as  she  might, 
"there's  nothing  you  can  do  for  me.  I've  managed  all 
right  myself." 

"Then  I  may  at  least  have  the  pleasure  of  cranking 
up,"  he  opined,  and  proceeded  to  do  so,  but  with  the 
uncomfortable  result  that,  after  a  few  irregular  explo- 
sions, the  engine  came  to  a  full  stop  again. 

He  looked  at  her  amusedly  from  under  uplifted  eye- 
brows, and,  while  she  blushed  over  her  ineffectual  pre- 
varication, became  more  than  ever  impressed  with  her 
beauty. 

"You  haven't  managed  quite  as  successfully  as  we 
must  before  we  get  this  toy  to  go  again,"  he  protested 
with  a  plausible  assumption  of  sympathy.  "It's  lucky 
that  I  came  along  just  now — for  you  as  well  as  my- 
self." 

He  bowed  again,  with  a  flourish,  and  then  took  upon 
himself  the  task  of  setting  things  straight,  but  going 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  51 

to  work  with  a  leisurely  air  very  trying  to  her  in  her 
hurry. 

"I've  been  dining  down  at  Long  Beach,  you  see," 
he  informed  her  conversationally.  "I  don't  care  much 
for  Manhattan  in  broad  daylight,  and  I'm  very  fond  of 
the  seashore.  But  after  the  lamps  are  lit,  little  old  New 
York's  not  such  a  bad  place.  I'm  on  my  way  in  to 
supper  there  now." 

Every  now  and  then,  he  would  glance  up  at  her  with 
some  such  friendly  or  facetious  remark,  and  when  she 
drew  back  from  the  circle  of  light  he  bade  her  come 
closer  and  help  him.  She  would  fain  have  dispensed 
with  his  services  altogether,  but  the  hope  that  she 
would  presently  be  well  on  her  way  again  combined 
with  the  fear  of  any  argument  with  him  while  she  was 
still  held  fast  beside  her  crippled  machine  in  enabling 
her  to  put  up  with  his  presence.  Only  once  did  an- 
other motor  whiz  past,  taking  no  notice  of  them,  and 
otherwise  the  road  was  deserted. 

"If  you're  bound  for  the  Beach,"  the  man  said  sud- 
denly, straightening  himself  after  a  long  bout  with  the 
interior  mechanism,  "I'll  run  you  down  there  in  quick 
time,  and  we'll  send  a  man  back  to  bring  your  car  on." 

"Oh,  no,"  she  declared,  "I  must  take  the  car  on  my- 
self, and — I'm  not  going  to  the  Beach." 

"Jamaica?"  he  asked  curiously,  resuming  the  cigar 
which  he  had  laid  aside. 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  not  wishing  to  offend 
him  by  replying,  as  she  might  have  done,  that  that  was 
no  concern  of  his,  and  he,  impelled  thereto  by  her 
sweet,  troubled  eyes,  became  more  reckless  in  his  gen- 
erosity. 

"It  doesn't  matter  where,"  he  said,  moving  toward 


•52  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

his  own  car.  "JumP  in  beside  me  and  I'll  run  you 
home  before  they  lock  the  door.  Then  I'll  come  back 
and  bring  the  car  on.  No  one  will  be  a  bit  the  wiser." 

She  did  not  thoroughly  understand  him,  but  vetoed 
that  suggestion  also. 

'Til  tell  you  what,  then,"  he  concluded,  motioning 
to  her  that  she  should  follow  him. 

"We'll  go  straight  to  New  York,  and  get  someone 
from  Long  Island  City  to  attend  to  this.  We'll  be  just 
in  the  nick  of  time  for  a  nice,  quiet  supper,  and  you  can 
catch  a  late  train  out.  How  does  that  strike  you,  eh  ?" 

He  scowled  as  she  turned  her  back  on  him,  but  she 
did  not  notice  that.  She  was  once  more  busy  with  the 
recalcitrant  engine. 

"You're  only  wasting  your  time  there,"  he  assured 
her.  "That  thing  won't  move  again  to-night.  Say, 
I  know  a  place  where  we'd  never  be  noticed,  and  you 
need  something  to  eat  now.  Come  on.  What  are  you 
afraid  of,  hey?" 

He  laid  a  persuasive  hand  on  her  arm,  made 
as  though  he  would  have  slipped  it  around  her  waist, 
but  she  stepped  swiftly  backward.  Before  he  could 
.speak  he  was  staring  into  the  muzzle  of  a  glittering  but 
otherwise  quite  workmanlike  revolver. 

He  stopped  and  stood  still,  not  blanching,  although 
her  finger  was  crooked  in  its  trigger  and  he  knew  that 
women  are  not  to  be  trusted  with  firearms.  So  that 
she,  who  had  no  lack  of  courage  herself,  liked  him  none 
the  worse  for  that  he  was  not  coward  as  well  as  cad. 

"Will  you  please  get  into  your  car  and  go  on,"  she 
requested  steadily.  "I'm  a  good  shot,  and  I  shan't 
hesitate  to " 

"I   don't  doubt   it,"   he   interrupted,   more   soberly 


SHE   HAD  ALREADY   STARTED   TO   COUNT   IN   A   CLEAR   COLD  TONE, 
"ONE — TWO — THREE— FOUR — " 


Pag*  54 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  53 

than  he  had  yet  spoken,  but  still  with  an  irrepressible 
note  of  admiration  in  the  quick  words. 

"I  had  no  idea  of  offending  you,  miss,  and,  to  prove 
that,  I'll  put  matters  right  for  you  in  a  twinkling,  if 
you'll  allow  me.  I  know  exactly  what's  wrong,  al- 
though it  wasn't  my  purpose  to  say  so  until  it  suited 
me.  But  you're  one  of  the  right  sort,  and  I'll  be 
hanged  if  I'll  leave  a  lady  in  any  such  difficulty — even 
although  she  does  drill  a  hole  in  me  while  I'm  helping 
her  out  of  it." 

Without  more  ado,  he  lifted  the  cover  again,  holding 
a  lamp  for  himself  now,  and,  after  a  brief  interval,  rose 
triumphant. 

"That's  it,"  he  announced,  one  hand  on  his  hip  in  a 
jaunty  attitude,  and  breathing  heavily,  while  she  kept 
him  carefully  covered. 

"Now  I'll  try  the  crank,  if  I  may." 

He  did  so  without  awaiting  permission,  and,  under 
his  strong  hand,  the  traitorous  engine  was  soon  giving 
vent  to  a  most  heartsome  purr.  Then  he  looked  quiz- 
ically  over  to  where  she  stood  regarding  him  with  her 
bent  brows,  thankful  for  his  belated  aid  and  yet  an- 
noyed because  of  the  half  hour  he  had  wasted  for  her, 
not  knowing  how  she  should  go  gracefully. 

He  solved  that  question  for  her. 

"You  owe  me  something,"  he  asserted  meaningly. 
"Whether  it's  much  or  little  I  must  leave  you  to  figure 
out.  A  kiss  would  cancel  the  debt — and  cost  you  noth- 
ing." 

His  further  effrontery  did  not  so  much  disconcert 
her,  now  that  she  had  in  some  sort  taken  the  measure 
of  the  man.  He  was  a  rogue,  but  his  very  recklessness 
appealed  to  the  woman  in  her. 


54  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"I'm  indebted  to  you  for  what  you  have  done,"  she 
told  him  with  a  sufficient  tinge  of  gratitude  in  her  tone, 
"and  I'm  only  sorry  you've  given  me  cause  to  distrust 
you — to  the  extent  that  I  must  ask  you  to  get  into 
your  car  now  and  g©  on,  so  that  I  also  may  get  away. 
I  thank  you  again,  sir,  for  such  courtesy  as  you  have 
shown  me,  and,  in  return,  I'll  count  ten  before  I  shoot." 

"Oh,  see  here!"  he  began,  but  she  had  already 
started  to  count  in  a  cold,  clear  tone,  "One — two — 
three — four " 

And  he  saw  that  she  meant  no  more  and  no  less  than 
what  she  had  said.  She  would  most  assuredly  fire  if  he 
did  not  obey  her. 

He  was  half  inclined  to  take  the  risk  and  chance  her 
shot  going  wide,  so  desirable  did  she  look  standing 
there  alone  under  the  dim  stars,  her  delicate  features 
warmly  aglow  in  the  gleam  of  his  upheld  lamp,  her 
clear  eyes  meeting  his  clouded  ones  resolutely.  But 
some  remnant  of  a  better  nature  induced  him  to  give 
in  to  her  steadfast  purpose.  He  bowed  to  her  with  a 
real  respect  as  she  counted  eight,  and  at  ten  was  al- 
ready guiding  his  car  past  hers. 

He  went  on  a  few  yards,  and  stopped,  watching  her 
as  she  climbed  to  her  seat,  but  without  making  any 
further  attempt  to  annoy  her. 

"If  everything  isn't  quite  all  right,  I'm  here  at  your 
service,"  he  called  through  the  gloom,  but  she  nodded 
briskly  as  she  looked  back.  "Everything's  all  right, 
thanks,"  she  replied. 

"And  I'm  to  have  supper  all  by  myself?"  he  inquired 
in  sad  jest. 

"Good  night,"  she  responded  briefly,  and  went  her 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  55 

way,  leaving  him  leaning  over  the  back  of  the  seat, 
staring  regretfully  after  her. 

"She's  no  snob,"  he  assured  himself  fervently.  "A 
Blue  Grass  filly,  if  ever  there  was  one.  I  like  the  breed. 
"If  it  weren't  for  this  infernal  girl  that  I'm  going  to 
marry,  I'd  turn  about  and  chase  right  after  her  now." 

Ten  minutes  more  took  the  object  of  his  eulogy  to 
Jamaica,  and  the  short  run  through  the  lighted  streets 
there  helped  to  build  up  her  waning  courage  against 
the  long  journey  still  before  her.  It  had  been  severely 
tried  in  the  recent  encounter,  although  she  had  shown 
no  sign  of  that  at  the  time. 

She  swept  through  Hollis  and  hit  the  Jericho  turn- 
pike, the  purr  of  the  power  rising  a  note  or  two  as  she 
let  it  out  in  the  open.  Sh'e  had  three  good  lamps  to 
help  her  along  and  was  a  most  expert  driver.  By  the 
time  she  had  left  Mineola  behind  she  had  almost  re- 
covered her  normal  spirits,  was  even  enjoying  her  wild 
night-ride.  If  all  went  well  now  she  would  yet  be 
home  before  daybreak,  and  so  relieve  some  part  of 
Fanchette's  anxieties. 

A  silver  crescent  climbed  into  the  sky  and  cast 
strange  shadows  across  her  path.  Dark  clumps  of 
trees,  tall  bushes,  assumed  stranger  shapes  as  she  drew 
toward  them,  and  passed,  and  left  them  behind.  The 
houses  she  saw  were  all  dark.  The  eerie  stillness  of 
night  was  only  broken  by  the  monotonous  whirr  which 
accompanied  her,  or  when  some  dog  barked  noisily 
from  a  farm  at  the  sound  of  her  flight. 

Hour  after  hour  ticked  away  without  other  occur- 
rence, and  she  still  sat  steadily  at  her  wheel,  alert  and 
ready  for  anything  that  might  befall.  But,  for  all  her 
haste,  grey  dawn  was  breaking  across  the  bay  before 


56  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

she  turned  off  the  high  road  on  to  a  rougher  one, 
slowed  down  to  cross  an  uncertain  bridge  spanning  a 
shallow  salt  water  creek,  and,  putting  on  a  last  spurt 
over  sand,  wheeled  into  an  almost  untrodden  track 
through  a  thick  belt  of  wood  which  concealed  a  small 
dwelling  beside  the  sea. 

At  the  warning  honk  of  her  horn  a  door  was  flung 
wide  from  within,  an  elderly  woman  ran  forth  with  up- 
lifted hands,  tragic  eyes. 

"C'est  toi,  mamselle!"  cried  she  in  tremulous  French, 
and  called  upon  God  to  witness  her  gratitude  as  her 
young  mistress  stepped  down  from  the  car. 

"It's  I,  Fanchette,  without  doubt,"  said  the  girl, 
very  gladly.  "And  thankful  to  see  you  again,  and  so 
tired  that  I  can  scarcely  see. 

"You  were  not  over-anxious,  were  you?"  she  asked 
coaxingly,  and  put  an  arm  round  the  other  as  she  saw 
that  her  eyes  were  wet. 

"Now,  don't  cry,  there's  a  dear.  I'm  here  after  all, 
and  I'll  tell  you  what  happened  to  me  just  as  soon  as 
we  get  indoors.  I  had  hard  enough  work  to  get 
home  even  at  this  unearthly  hour." 

Fanchette  pulled  a  bunch  of  keys  from  her  pocket 
and  loosened  the  padlock  from  the  barn-door.  The 
two  of  them  backed  the  motor  in,  and  she  locked  it 
again  ere  she  followed  the  girl  toward  the  house.  She 
also  drew  the  bolt  there  behind  her  on  entering. 

The  girl  went  wearily  through  to  a  tiny  sitting-room 
and  threw  herself  down  on  a  couch  by  the  window 
there,  while  her  maid  hastily  completed  the  prepara- 
tions for  a  late  supper  or  early  breakfast  which  had  ob~ 
viously  been  in  readiness  for  some  time. 

"Draw  in,  dear  heart,  and  eat,"  said  Fanchette  coax- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  57 

ingly.  She  herself  had  been  almost  distraught  with 
anxiety  the  long  night  through,  was  worn  with  her 
vigil,  but,  since  her  dauntless  charge  was  also  so  far 
spent  as  to  confess  the  weakness  evident  in  her  whole 
demeanor,  she  was  fain  to  forget  her  own  fatigue  in 
fond  solicitude.  A  somewhat  homely  and  harsh-feat- 
ured serving-woman,  this  Fanchette,  but  very  faithful! 

The  girl  raised  herself  listlessly,  and  sat  down  in 
the  place  prepared  for  her. 

"It  was  Jules  Chevrel  who  detained  me,"  she  said, 
under  an  irresistible  impulse  to  unburden  herself  of 
her  heavy  trouble,  and  Fanchette's  face  paled  as  she 
laid  a  hand  on  her  heart,  crossing  herself  with  the 
other,  as  though  to  ward  off  some  imminent  evil,  at 
sound  of  that  name. 

"Jules  Chevrel!"  she  repeated,  in  a  hoarse  whisper, 
and  waited,  in  fear. 

"Jules  Chevrel,"  said  the  girl.  "He  caught  sight  of 
me  and  I  of  him  as  I  came  out  of  a  store.  There  was 
no  chance  of  escape." 

"But  there  is  now?"  asked  Fanchette  eagerly. 

The  girl  did  not  answer  at  once.  She  was  calling  to 
mind  all  she  had  undergone,  and  a  single  furrow  was 
once  more  visible  on  her  white  forehead. 

"Monsieur  is  in  New  York,"  she  returned  presently, 
and  Fanchette  gave  vent  to  a  stifled  groan. 

"Jules  said  he  had  been  sent  in  search  of  me,  and — • 
and  that  I  must  go  to  Monsieur  with  him.  Otherwise 
— he  threatened  to  call  the  police.  And  I — I  did  not 
know.  I  felt  stunned.  I  was  afraid  to  risk  such  a 
scandal.  I  let  him  seat  himself  in  the  car,  and  drove 
him  where  he  would. 

"We  went  up  Riverside,  and,  by  the  way,  he  hinted 


58  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

at  hush-money.  He  would  take  ten  thousand  francs," 
— Fanchette  held  up  her  hands  in  mute,  stricken  pro- 
test— "and  swear  that  he  had  not  seen  me.  I  told  him 
that  I  had  only  five  thousand  in  my  possession,  and,  in 
the  end,  he  agreed  to  accept  that  sum.  We  went  back 
.  to  the  bank  and  he  stayed  outside  while  I  closed  my  ac- 
count. And  he  took  it  all  from  me  as  the  price  of 
silence.  But  I  didn't  grudge  it  for  that,  Fanchette." 

Fanchette  nodded,  and  shook  her  head,  speechlessly. 

"It  was  late  enough  then,  and  I  begged  him  to  let 
me  go  at  once  since  he  could  wring  nothing  more 
from  me,  but  he  wouldn't.  He  made  me  take  him  to 
the  Park  and  about  the  streets  on  the  west  side.  Twice 
we  stopped  and  I  had  to  accompany  him  into  cafes, 
common  places  where  everyone  stared  at  us  strangely, 
and  afterwards  he  insisted  on  my  drawing  up  at  a  res- 
taurant he  pointed  out,  where  he  ordered  dinner. 

"I  had  no  option  but  to  obey  him  lest  he  should 
create  a  disturbance,  and  he  made  mock  of  my  protests. 
At  dinner  he  drank  champagne,  and  became  still  more 
dictatorial.  He  had  a  dispute  with  the  waiter — he 
shamed  me  bitterly  in  that  place — and  when  that  was 
over  would  have  had  me  take  him  back  into  the  car. 
But  I  was  desperate  then.  I  struck  him  as  he  would 
have  entered,  and  drove  him  away  before  he  recovered 
his  wits." 

"You  were  very  brave,  dear  heart,"  said  Fanchette 
soothingly,  for  the  girl's  eyes  were  downcast  as  though 
in  shame.  "You  were  brave  indeed !  A  pity  the  blow 
did  not  end  the  rascal!  But  you  did  well." 

"Then  I  was  still  further  delayed,  for  the  car  broke 
down  on  a  lonely  stretch  of  road  not  far  from  this  side 
of  the  ferry,  and — it  cost  me  some  time  and  trouble  to 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  59 

get  it  to  go  again.  I  made  all  the  speed  I  could,  Fan- 
chette,  knowing  that  you  would  be  waiting  up  for  me, 
but  I  couldn't  do  any  better  than  this." 

"Eat  and  drink  now,"  Fanchette  commanded,  ignor- 
ing all  else  in  her  sympathy  for  the  spent  traveler.  "Eat 
and  drink  now,  and  then  sleep.  Afterwards  there  will 
be  time  to  think  for  the  future. 

"See  here  is  milk  from  the  ice — and  cold  chicken, 
and  salad.  And  I  have  an  omelette  ready  to  set  on  the 
fire,  and  the  coffee  is  brewing.  Eat  then.  We  are  still 
safe." 

She  hovered  over  the  girl,  and  pressed  on  her  the 
simple  dishes  prepared  with  such  care,  restraining  with 
a  commendable  effort  the  question  trembling  on  the 
tip  of  her  tongue.  But  at  length  the  time  came  when 
she  might  ask  it  without  ill  effect. 

"And  Monsieur?  Will  he  give  up  the  search  now, 
ma'mselle?" 

The  girl  dropped  her  dimpled  chin  on  her  palm  and 
stared  out  across  the  sea  as  she  answered. 

"I  don't  know,  Fanchette.  Jules  made  no  promise 
except  that  he  would  keep  silent  himself,  and — and  let 
me  go. 

"How  much  money  have  you  left  in  our  treasury?" 

Fanchette  went  through  to  the  tidy  kitchen  which 
was  her  domain  and  brought  back  a  black  oaken  coffer, 
from  which  she  proceeded  to  count  out  a  handful  of 
bills  and  small  change. 

"A  hundred  francs  in  all,  ma'mselle,"  she  replied, 
making  use  of  the  more  imposing  currency  with  an 
indomitable  optimism.  "Quite  a  large  sum,  and 
enough  to  keep  us  for  some  time  with  care.  I  shall 
manage  to  make  ends  meet,  never  fear. 


60  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"And  now  your  room  is  all  ready,  if  you  will  lie  down 
and  rest." 

But  the  girl  did  not  immediately  take  the  hint.  She 
sat  where  she  was  for  a  little,  endeavoring  to  see  some 
way  out  of  the  tangle  in  which  she  found  herself.  She 
could  see  none,  and  at  length  arose. 

"There's  one  thing  certain,"  she  told  herself  with 
discouraging  frankness.  "Twenty  dollars  won't  last  us 
long,  in  America.  We  must  have  more  money  without 
delay,  in  case  we're  discovered  here.  We  must  sell  the 
car." 

"Fanchette,"  she  said,  raising  her  voice,  "I'm  afraid 
there's  nothing  for  it  but  to  sell  the  car." 

"Eh,  bien,"  responded  Fanchette  from  beyond,  en- 
couragingly. "What  matter? — so  that  by  such  means 
we  escape  Monsieur." 

But  when  her  almost  exhausted  charge  was  at  length 
safe  between  the  sheets,  Fanchette  found  in  the  news 
she  had  heard  cause  more  than  sufficient  for  the  grav- 
est apprehension. 

"What  chance  has  my  lamb  to  escape?"  she  ques- 
tioned despairingly  of  the  dumb  kitchen  utensils. 
"What  chance  has  my  lamb — with  Monsieur  le  Due 
hard  at  hand. 

"A  duke — and  much  worse  than  a  wolf!" 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    RAT-FACED    FRENCHMAN    HAS    WORDS    WITH    MON- 
SIEUR AT   THE    ST.    REGULUS 

It  was  nearly  noon  before  a  stray  shaft  of  sunshine, 
falling  across  M.  le  Due's  pallid  face  as  he  lay  sleeping 
soddenly  in  his  luxurious  chamber  at  the  St.  Regulus 
after  a  most  wearisome  night-journey  from  Chicago, 
woke  him  to  blinking  consciousness  of  his  uncared  for 
condition. 

He  gaped,  and  yawned,  and  struck  at  the  blinding 
ray,  irritably  but  without  effect,  caught  sight  of  the 
clock,  and  sat  up  with  an  exclamation  of  anger.  The 
intrusion  of  daylight  before  he  desired  it  was  quite  in- 
excusable,— there  was  no  sign  of  his  morning  choco- 
late or  Courier, — his  dusty  clothes  were  lying  untended 
where  he  had  left  them, — the  room  was  empty  save 
for  himself.  Where  the  devil  was  Jules!  Of  what 
avail  was  a  valet  who  did  not  attend  to  his  duties !  He 
reached  for  the  bell-push,  and  pushed  it  hard. 

A  red-headed  bell-boy  appeared  with  a  pitcher  of 
distilled  water  fresh  from  the  ice. 

"Send  my  servant,"  said  Monsieur,  in  elegant 
French,  and  the  boy,  having  bowed  with  great  outward 
deference,  left  him  to  brood  over  his  many  wrongs. 

It  was  Jules'  advice  which  had  sent  him  off  on  a 
fool's  errand  to  Chicago,  that  city  of  an  almost  incon- 
ceivable repugnance  to  a  Parisian  of  taste.  He  had 

61 


62  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

traveled  incognito,  unattended,  with  the  common  herd. 
He  had  been  subject  to  all  the  discomforts  democracy 
ever  invented  to  harass  a  harmless  aristocrat.  He  had 
not  been  able  to  sleep  in  the  train,  and,  when  he  had 
once  more  reached  the  St.  Regulus,  at  half  past  eight 
in  the  morning,  he  had  to  turn  on  his  own  hot  bath 
and  get  into  bed  without  help — because  Jules  could 
not  be  found.  The  recapitulation  of  these  and  a  num- 
ber of  other  fermenting  grievances  much  inflamed 
Monsieur.  And,  even  now,  no  one  came  hurrying  to 
his  assistance.  He  rang  a  second  time. 

He  was  still  absent-mindedly  pressing  the  button  on 
the  wall  behind  him  when  the  red-headed  youth  re- 
appeared, with  a  further  supply  of  ice  water. 

"Phwat's  eatin'  yez?"  he  demanded,  his  words  not 
at  all  in  accord  witk  his  attitude  of  polite  attention,  but 
safe  in  the  knowledge  that  Monsieur  had  no  under- 
standing of  Irish-American. 

"Are  ye  stuck  to  th'  wire,  or  thryin'  to  bore  a  hole 
through  th'  wall,  ye  frog-eatin'  Frinchman?" 

"Holy  name  of  a  dog!"  cried  the  object  of  his  apos- 
trophe in  fervent  Gallic.  "Remove  me  these  poisonous 
pitchers  swiftly.  Is  it  that  you  think  I  have  a  stomach 
of  leather,  rascal  and  fool !  It  is  chocolate  I  ask  for,  and 
Jules,  my  servant.  Send  Jules  Chevrel  to  me.  Thou- 
sand thunders !  Was  there  ever  such  a  dunce !  Where 
is  Jules  ?  Send  me  Jules !" 

"Awright,"  said  the  red-headed  boy,  bowing  still 
more  deeply.  "Quit  yelpin',  an'  kape  yer  wool  on.  I'll 
dig  out  Jool,  since  it's  him  ye're  afther.  Why  didn't 
ye  say  so  before." 

He  once  more  withdrew,  closing  the  door  delicately 
behind  him,  and  Monsieur  threw  himself  back  on  his 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  63 

pillows  with  a  great  air  of  exhaustion.  But  when  Jules 
Chevrel  did  at  length  arrive,  a  short,  thick-set  man, 
close-cropped  after  the  French  fashion,  carrying  a  cup 
of  chocolate  in  one  unsteady  hand,  and  in  the  other  a 
morning  paper,  his  shifty  eyes,  bloodshot  and  bilious, 
his  employer  had  still  enough  energy  left  to  berate  him 
roundly. 

"You  were  drunk  again  last  night,  Jules,"  he  com- 
plained in  conclusion  of  a  long  tirade  to  which  the 
other  had  listened  indifferently. 

"I  was  sober,"  Jules  contradicted  insolently. 

"Have  the  goodness  to  hand  me  my  boots,"  Mon- 
sieur begged,  getting  half  out  of  bed  in  his  rage  over 
such  futile  untruth. 

"You  don't  want  boots  on  your  bare  feet,"  Jules  ob- 
jected. "You  aren't  going  to  bathe  in  your  boots. 
What  do  you  want  your  boots  for?" 

"I  want  them  to  kick  you  down  stairs  with,  you 
scoundrel !"  cried  Monsieur,  but  Jules  merely  darted  a 
glance  of  contempt  at  him  and  went  on  with  his  own 
occupations  unmoved.  He  would  have  a  card  or  two 
to  produce  from  his  sleeve  ere  he  should  be  kicked 
down  stairs,  and,  in  any  case,  the  threat  was  a  thread- 
bare metaphor. 

Monsieur  subsided  presently,  taking  without  objec- 
tion the  cup  which  was  handed  to  him  in  place  of  the 
boots  he  had  asked  for.  But  he  did  not  altogether 
forego  his  verbal  complaint. 

"Why  did  I  bring  you  with  me  from  Paris?"  he 
grumbled  bitterly,  while  Jules  laid  out  his  morning  cos- 
tume for  him.  "Because  you  can  speak  the  barbarous 
language  they  use  in  this  barbarous  country,  and  that 
you  might  be  of  assistance  to  me  in  my  search.  I 


64  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

place  myself  thus  in  your  power,  and  how  do  you  help 
me?  By  getting  drunk! 

"You  urge  me  on  wild-goose  chases  in  all  directions. 
I  go.  What  happens?  I  lose  still  more  time  and 
money. 

"Look  you,  Jules.  There  is  now  enough  of  this 
folly.  The  next  time  it  happens  you  go  back  to  Paris, 
and  I  find  a  valet  de  place,  who  will  assuredly  prove  of 
more  service  than  you." 

"Is  it  my  fault,"  growled  Jules  disrespectfully,  "that 
it  takes  a  little  time  to  find  a  needle  in  such  a  hay- 
stack? Have  riot  I  toiled  devotedly  to  serve  Mon- 
sieur? Monsieur  forgets,  it  seems " 

"I  forget  nothing,  Jules,"  Monsieur  broke  in,  in  a 
tone  more  placable.  He  did  not  care  to  be  reminded  of 
some  services  Jules  had  done  him.  "I  forget  nothing, 
and — when  the  time  comes,  you  will  not  find  me  un- 
grateful." 

"When  you  get  hold  of  the  girl,  you  mean,"  mut- 
tered Jules  to  himself  in  the  bathroom,  "I  may  get  the 
smallest  possible  share  of  the  plunder — if  I  can  force 
you  to  disgorge."  It  was  painfully  evident  that  Mon- 
sieur was  no  hero  to  his  own  valet.  "But  I  know  a 
trick  worth  two  of  that,  mon  ami.  I'll  squeeze  her 
purse  first,  and  yours  afterwards — since  it  will  be  better 
filled  then.  I  wish  I  had  not  so  foolishly  let  her  slip 
through  my  fingers  last  night,  but — I'll  find  her  again. 
And,  in  the  meantime,  I  suppose  I  must  humor  you." 

"Monsieur's  bath  is  ready,"  he  said  aloud,  coming 
back  to  the  bedroom.  He  was  sober  enough  now,  and 
had  all  his  wits  about  him  again.  While  Monsieur  was 
absent  his  man's  brain  was  busy,  and  when  he  emerged 
from  the  bathroom,  it  had  been  decided  that  he  was  to 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  65 

hear  nothing  of  Jules  Chevrel's  chance  encounter  with 
the  object  of  their  joint  quest.  That  worthy  did  not 
intend  to  enlighten  him  as  to  the  girl's  proximity  until 
it  should  suit  his  own  convenience  to  do  so. 

"Events  will  develop  themselves,"  Jules  assured 
himself  with  great  philosophy.  "And  when  I  find  her 
again,  as  I  certainly  shall,  she  will  pay  dearly  for  any 
extra  trouble  I  may  have,  before  I  turn  her  over  to 
Monsieur.  What  are  five  thousand  francs — to  her? 
Pcste!  A  mere  bagatelle." 

He  helped  his  employer  to  dress,  and,  by  the  time 
that  operation  was  over,  both  were  in  much  better  tem- 
per; Monsieur  because  he  felt  glad  to  be  back  on  Fifth 
Avenue,  which  was  the  nearest  approach  to  his  be- 
loved boulevards  of  which  he  knew  in  America,  and 
Jules  Chevrel  because  he  would  shortly  be  free  for  the 
afternoon.  The  one  was  once  more  suavely  patroniz- 
ing, the  other  smoothly  respectful,  before  they  parted, 
Monsieur  to  stroll  down  to  Sherry's  for  a  late  break- 
fast, his  valet  to  lunch  lavishly  at  a  less  expensive  re- 
sort and  plan  a  subsequent  airing  at  three-dollars-fifty 
an  hour,  to  be  charged  to  his  master's  account. 

While  he  ate,  Jules  was  thinking  of  what  he  had  seen 
after  the  girl  had  left  him  at  Martin's.  The  surface  car 
he  had  caught  had  carried  him  quickly  up  Broadway, 
and,  by  good  luck,  he  had  sighted  her  in  her  automobile 
as  she  had  turned  west.  He  had  cunningly  deduced 
that  she  would  double  back,  either  to  the  North  River 
ferry  at  Twenty-third  street  or  round  to  the  Eas-ttRiver. 

With  only  that  slender  clue  to  guide  him  he  made 
up  his  mind  that  it  would  be  wise  to  look  for  her  on 
Long  Island  first. 

He  hired  a  small  motor  car,  and  having  made  in- 


66  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

quiry  about  her  at  the  New  York  dock  without  re- 
sult, crossed  to  Long  Island  City.  On  that  side,  he 
discovered  a  dock-hand  who  recalled  having  seen  a 
lady  alone  in  a  runabout  leave  the  boat  some  time  be- 
tween nine  and  ten  on  the  previous  night,  and  from  the 
description  he  got  of  her  had  no  doubt  that  it  must 
have  been  the  girl  he  was  seeking.  But  which  way 
she  had  gone  no  one  could  inform  him,  and,  while  he 
stood  there  debating  the  best  road  to  follow,  a  big  new 
touring  car  passed  at  an  easy  pace. 

He  ducked  down  behind  his  own  inconspicuous 
turn-out:  he  had  recognized  at  the  wheel  of  the  c';her, 
beside  a  grey-haired  individual  unknown  to  him,  the 
man  he  had  seen  overnight  at  Martin's.  A  sudden, 
unclean  suspicion  shot  through  his  mind.  He 
promptly  decided  to  act  on  that. 

Quaintance  had  not  been  idle  since  he  and  O'Ferral 
had  parted,  during  the  small  hours  and  after  a  pro- 
longed interchange  of  confidence.  He  had  found  it 
vain  to  seek  sleep,  on  his  first  night  in  the  noisy  city 
and  while  his  brain  was  yet  busy  with  the  strange 
events  of  the  evening.  Dawn  had  found  him  pacing 
his  room  in  pyjamas  and  dressing-gown,  a  cold  pipe 
between  his  teeth. 

He  had  been  thinking  of  many  things  during  the 
dark  hours,  but  chiefly  of  a  face  too  fair  to  be  soon  for- 
gotten. He  had  been  wondering  whether,  if  need 
were,  he  could  forget  it  in  time.  And  daylight  brought 
clear  understanding.  He  could  not. 

His  half-formed  purpose  crystalized,  assumed  con- 
crete shape.  He  must  find  her  again,  at  all  costs.  By 
eight  o'clock  he  had  O'Ferral,  only  half  awake,  on  the 
'phone,  and  immediately  after  breakfast  presented 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  67 

himself,  with  a  most  efficacious  card  from  his  friend,  at 
a  spacious  showroom  on  Broadway.  He  promptly 
possessed  himself,  on  approval,  of  a  high-powered  and 
no  less  high-priced  modern  model  of  all  that  an  auto- 
mobile should  be. 

Then,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  in  touch  with  O'Ferral 
again,  he  had  insisted  on  taking  him  out  for  a  trial 
spin. 

The  correspondent  had  his  own  manifold  affairs  to 
attend  to,  but  he  had  also  a  noteworthy  knack  of  com- 
bining pleasure  with  business.  By  a  curious  coinci- 
dence he  was  called  to  Rockaway  Beach.  If  Quaint- 
ance  could  carry  him  thither,  and  back  to  the  Cornu- 
copia Club,  it  would  be  quite  convenient  to  join  him. 
Quaintance  could.  Quaintance  picked  him  up  at 
Thirty-fourth  street  from  the  Third  Avenue  L.  They 
crossed  the  ferry  together,  and  headed  by  way  of  Ja- 
maica to  Lynbrook  then  back  through  Far  Rockaway 
and  Arverne  to  the  beach,  where  they  drew  up  at  the 
Inn,  alighted,  refreshed  themselves,  and  strolled  to- 
ward the  shore. 

Jules  Chevrel,  following  at  a  safe  distance,  also 
stopped  at  the  Inn  for  long  enough  to  absorb  two 
brimming  bumpers  of  absinthe  frappee — it  is  dry  work 
driving  a  hired  car  on  a  hot  afternoon — and  set  out  to 
dog  them  afoot. 

They  turned  slowly  along  the  boardwalk,  discussing 
the  points  and  performance  of  Quaintance's  purchase, 
and,  these  all  disposed  of,  returned  to  the  topic  upper- 
most in  that  gentleman's  mind,  a  topic  which  had  al- 
ready been  touched  upon  at  frequent  intervals. 

"I  wish  I  had  got  a  better  view  of  the  runabout  that 
girl  was  driving  last  night,"  he  remarked.  "I  don't 


68 


believe  I'd  know  it  again  unless  she  were  in  it  her- 
self." 

"I  should,"  answered  his  companion,  a  quick  under- 
standing smile  wrinkling  his  thin  face.  "It  was  a  Cadil- 
lac, two-seated,  model  Q,  '06,  lacquered  in  olive-green 
without  relief,  dark  canvas  Cape-cart  hood,  three  head- 
lamps. Most  of  the  brasswork  had  been  coated  over, 
to  save  cleaning.  The  only  thing  I  couldn't  get  a  line 
on  was  the  number — but  it  was  too  thick  with  dust." 

"You're  a  marvel,"  said  Quaintance  approvingly. 
"When  special  corresponding  becomes  a  lost  art,  you 
ought  to  get  good  pay  as  a  detective.  I  couldn't  have 
told  it  off  so  concisely  even  if  I  had  seen  the  car.  How 
did  you  manage  to  notice  so  much  in  such  a  short  time, 
eh?" 

"The  faculty  of  observation,"  retorted  his  friend. 
"In  my  trade  one  has  to  be  as  quick  as  a  snapshot  and 
accurate  as  an  adding  machine  at  the  same  time.  I'd 
have  been  dead  and  buried  a  long  time  ago  if  I  hadn't 
learned  the  trick  young.  And,  besides,  I  had  a  good 
look  at  the  thing. 

"I'll  give  you  another  bit  of  my  mind  if  you  like, 
Steve.  I've  figured  it  out  backwards  and  by  deduc- 
tion, but  I'll  let  you  have  it  right  end  up.  You  re- 
member the  rat-faced  Frenchman?" 

"I  do,"  said  Quaintance  concisely. 

"And  a  cheap-looking  car  we  passed  just  outside  the 
dock  gates  in  Long  Island  City?" 

"I  didn't  notice  it  particularly." 

"Well,  the  Frenchman  was  with  it.  He  followed  us 
down  here.  He's  close  to  us  at  this  moment." 

"Where?"  asked  Quaintance  eagerly. 

"Keep  cool,"  requested  O'Ferral,  gripping  him  by 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  69 

the  arm  as  he  would  have  turned.  "Be  more  circum- 
spect, confound  you.  What  d'you  want  to  do?" 

"I  want  to  spread  him  to  the  four  winds,"  confessed 
his  companion.  "I  want  to  feed  the  fishes  with  him. 
Last  night  I  offered  the  girl  a  seat  when  he  left  her 
standing  while  he  was  away  wrangling  with  a  waiter 
about  ten  cents.  When  he  came  back  he  gave  me  a 
scowl  that  would  have  earned  him  a  broken  neck  then 
if  she  hadn't  been  looking  on.  Let  me  have  just  a 
couple  of  words  with  him,  and  I'll  be  as  circumspect 
as  an  oyster." 

"WThat  you're  going  to  do  at  present  is  to  ignore 
him,"  O'Ferral  explained  peremptorily. 

"And  the  reason  why,"  he  continued,  as  Quaintance 
reluctantly  fell  into  step  with  him  again,  "is  that  we 
want  to  find  out  first  what  his  little  game  is.  It's  my 
belief  that  he's  out  after  the  girl  too,  and,  if  she's  any- 
where in  this  neighborhood,  we'll  let  him  find  her  for 
us.  I  have  an  idea  that  he  thinks  you  know  a  good 
deal  more  than  you  do  about  her.  We  don't  need  to 
undeceive  him,  and  while  he's  hanging  about  here 
she's  safe — from  him." 

"True  for  you,"  agreed  Quaintance  upon  cogitation, 
and  frowning.  "He's  a  thoroughly  bad  egg,  that  fel- 
low, and — he  seemed  to  have  some  hold  over  her.  I'd 
give  a  great  deal  to  find  her  again,  O'Ferral,  and,  when 
I  do, " 

"If  you  do,"  corrected  his  friend. 

"When  I  do,"  he  repeated  stubbornly,  "I'll  make 
quite  sure  what  it  was  and  then  settle  scores  with  him. 
Meantime  I  suppose  I  must  just  lie  low." 

"But  what  will  you  do  if  you  find  she's  married,  or, 


70  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

what's  still  more  likely,  engaged  to  be  married  to 
somebody  else?"  O'Ferral  asked  gravely. 

"She  wore  no  rings,"  retorted  Quaintance.  "She's 
free  still,  and  that's  why  I'm  in  such  a  hurry.  Let's 
turn  back  and  get  a  drink — I'm  thirsty." 

They  faced  about,  and  the  Frenchman,  who  had 
drawn  closer  as  they  slowed  down,  suddenly  found 
himself  confronting  them.  They  drew  to  one  side,  and 
waited  for  him  to  pass. 

A  wiser  man  would  have  gone  on  his  way  and 
avoided  their  vicinity  from  that  time  forward.  Their 
steady  stare  boded  Jules  Chevrel  no  great  grace  if  he 
should  give  further  offence.  But  the  Frenchman's 
mind  was  bemused  by  the  drink  he  had  swallowed 
in  the  hot  sunshine,  and  he  was  in  no  mood  to  be  brow- 
beaten. He  stopped,  and  eyed  them  with  swaggering 
self-assertion.  They  waited  for  him  to  speak.  He  did 
so,  addressing  himself  to  Quaintance. 

"You  speak  French?"  he  inquired  unceremoni- 
ously, in  that  language,  and  Quaintance  nodded. 

"You  are  no  doubt  on  intimate  terms  with  the  lady 
who  sat  at  your  table  in  Martin's  last  night  during  my 
unavoidable  absence?" 

Quaintance  stepped  very  quietly  up  to  him,  while 
O'Ferral  remained  in  the  background  unmoved,  con- 
tentedly puffing  at  his  Havana  and  noting  with  satis- 
faction that  there  was  not  likely  to  be  any  crowd. 

"See  here,  my  man,"  Quaintance  said,  in  quick,  ner- 
vous English,  "I'll  give  you  one  chance  to  go  on  un- 
hurt, though  you  don't  deserve  it.  Another  word  in 
that  strain  and  I'll  manhandle  you." 

The    Frenchman    apparently   understood    him    per- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  71 

fectly,  but  ignored  the  warning  and  went  on  in  his  own 
tongue. 

"I  want  her  address." 

"What  you  want  and  what  you're  going  to  get  are 
two  very  different  things,"  said  Quaintance,  his  lips 
compressed.  "Put  your  hands  up — I'm  going  to  be- 
gin." 

"I  want  her  address,"  the  Frenchman  repeated  ob- 
stinately. "And  you  will  do  well  to  beware  what  you 
are  about.  If  you  are  abetting  her  in " 

Quaintance's  fist  shot  out,  but  the  vicious  eyes  were 
too  wide  awake  to  encounter  that,  and  he  had  to  spring 
back  with  all  his  agility  to  escape  a  dangerous  boot- 
heel  which  had  appeared  where  his  enemy's  head  had 
been  and  within  an  inch  of  his  own  chin.  The  French- 
man was  minded  to  fight  with  his  feet,  and  was  no 
mean  exponent  of  la  savate.  He  had  indeed  counted 
on  that  inelegant  science  to  save  him  from  a  bout  of 
fisticuffs,  and  was  the  more  dismayed  to  find  his  op- 
ponent also  a  past-master  in  all  its  arts. 

Quaintance  had  caught  at  his  ankle,  and  closed 
in  so  quickly  that  a  savage  kick  from  the  free  foot, 
which  would  otherwise  have  disabled  him,  no  more 
than  grazed  his  knee.  He  grasped  it  also,  and,  tucking 
both  under  his  left  arm,  seized  the  struggling  French- 
man by  his  coat-collar,  plucked  him  off  the  ground  al- 
together. He  hung,  helplessly  clutching  and  clawing, 
in  mid-air,  while  Quaintance,  breathing  heavily,  car- 
ried him  to  the  water's  edge  and  cast  him  seawards 
with  all  the  swing  of  two  muscular  arms. 

It  was  high  tide  at  Rockaway  and  the  human  projec- 
tile came  down  with  a  squelching  splash,  greatly  to 
the  amusement  of  the  few  spectators  whom  O'Ferral 


72  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

had  been  keeping  in  the  background  and  who  now  ac- 
claimed Quaintance's  tour  de  force  with  that  pleasant 
impartiality  for  which  American  audiences  are  so  justly 
famous. 

The  Frenchman  rose,  spluttering,  all  the  fight 
washed  out  of  him.  There  was  to  be  no  further  enter- 
tainment for  the  onlookers.  He  clambered  ashore, 
dripping,  hatless,  pushed  through  them  as  soon  as 
Quaintance  had  spoken  a  few  low,  menacing  words  to 
him,  and  went  toward  the  Inn,  swearing  blood-curd- 
ling oaths  to  himself  but  without  looking  back. 

Having  rough-dried  himself  there  and  donned  a  coat 
he  made  for  Manhattan  at  speed,  planning  prompt  re- 
venge for  the  cruel  indignity  Quaintance  had  put  upon 
him. 

"They  are  thus  indeed  intimate,  he  and  she !  And 
it  will  be  safest  to  strike  him  through  her,"  said  the 
valiant  Jules  to  himself,  his  first  suspicion  as  to  the 
stranger's  interest  in  his  own  quarry  confirmed  by  the 
incident  in  which  he  had  perforce  played  such  a  shame- 
ful part,  his  whole  mind  bent  on  condign  revenge.  "It 
will  hurt  him  most  to  see  her  suffer,  and — I  shall  al- 
ways be  there,  looking  on.  And  Monsieur  must  play 
the  catspaw  for  me." 

Still  chewing  the  sweet  cud  of  such  schemes,  he 
reached  the  St.  Regulus  some  time  before  Monsieur 
came  in  from  his  afternoon  promenade,  and  tended  to 
all  the  details  of  that  connoisseur's  evening  toilet  so 
deftly  as  to  win  a  word  of  approval.  Whereupoo  he 
opened  fire  on  his  absent  enemy,  at  long  range,  from  a 
masked  battery. 

"I  have  news  for  Monsieur  to-night,"  he  mumbled, 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  73 

a  stud  in  his  mouth.  "I  do  not  think  that  it  will  be 
very  long  now  before  we  strike  the  true  trail." 

"Proceed,  Jules,"  cried  Monsieur  eagerly  as  his  valet 
paused  to  slip  the  stud  into  place.  "What  news?  And 
whence?  Is  it  that  you  have  seen  her?" 

"I  have  not  seen  her  myself,"  Jules  lied  glibly,  "but 
I  have  found  those  who  have.  It  is  not  in  Chicago  that 
she  resides,  but  close  to  New  York,  on  Long  Island." 

"Sacrebleu!  Then  why  do  you  dress  me  like  this?" 
cried  his  master,  excitedly.  "Let  us  go  there  at  once, 
my  good  Jules.  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before !  She 
may  yet  escape  us  if  we  lose  a  moment." 

He  tore  off  the  white  cravat  which  Jules  had  just 
knotted  so  neatly  about  his  collar,  threw  it  to  one  side, 
kicked  at  his  man  with  the  foot  whose  shoe  that  suf- 
ferer was  in  process  of  fastening. 

"Ten  thousand  devils !"  said  he.  "Why  did  you  not 
tell  me  before?  She  may  yet  escape  us." 


CHAPTER  VI 

CORNOYER  ENTERTAINS  A  CORPSE  AT  THE   CORNUCOPIA 

CLUB 

"You'd  better  look  out  for  your  rat-faced  friend,  if 
you  ever  run  across  him  again,"  said  O'Ferral,  in 
Quaintance's  car  on  the  way  back  to  Manhattan  from 
Rockaway  Beach.  "You  handled  him  neatly  enough, 
but  I  felt  a  bit  nervous  when  he  kicked  out." 

"I  learned  the  tackle  for  la  savate  when  I  was  living 
on  the  Boule-St-Mich,"  returned  his  companion  indif- 
ferently. 

"He's  lost  track  of  the  girl,  O'Ferral.  That's  one 
comfort.  And  I'm  going  to  find  her  again  before  he 
does." 

"I  wish  you  luck  in  your  quest."  O'Ferral's  tone 
was  dubious.  "It  will  perhaps  keep  you  out  of  mis- 
chief, but — I  rather  doubt  the  result." 

Quaintance  made  no  retort  but  looked  steadily 
ahead  of  him,  his  jaw  set. 

"Don't  take  the  thing  so  seriously,"  urged  the  cor- 
respondent. "There  are  more  girls  than  one  in  the 
world,  and — you've  just  got  rid  of  another  at  some  sac- 
rifice. You've  tricked  fate,  the  jade,  very  cleverly  once 
already.  Be  careful,  in  case  she  retaliates !" 

"She's  tripped  me  up  twice  within  twenty-four 
hours,"  answered  Quaintance  gloomily.  "First  at  the 
bank  on  Fifth  Avenue  and  then  at  Martin's.  I'll  see 
that  she  doesn't  find  it  so  easy  a  third  time." 

74 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  75 

"I  wish  /  had  nothing  to  do  but  go  gadding  about 
after  pretty  girls  in  olive-green  autos,"  observed 
O'Ferral  with  a  soulful  sigh.  "But  if  I  owned  a  few 
rose-diamonds  and  touring  cars  and  trifles  of  that  sort 
• — with  a  fat  bank  account  on  the  side — I'd  be  inclined 
to  fight  shy  of  fate.  I'd  - 

"If  you  meant  to  marry  a  girl,  what  would  you  do?" 
Quaintance  demanded  abruptly. 

"Why,  marry  her." 

"And  if  you  had  lost  sight  of  her  for  the  moment  ?" 

"I'd  find  her  again.  No,  no! — I  mean  that  I'd  think 
things  over  dispassionately — and  decide  that  I  wasn't 
so  badly  off  as  a  bachelor  after  all." 

Quaintance  laughed. 

"Old  ass!"  said  he,  affectionately. 

"But  there  will  be  no  golden-haired  girls  in  my 
wretched  autobiography,"  O'Ferral  resumed  presently. 
"No  time  in  my  trade  for  any  such  relaxation.  It's  a 
very  wearing  existence,  Steve.  When  I  get  up  in  the 
morning  I  never  know  when  or  where  I  may  sleep 
again.  You  ought  to  be  much  more  grateful  for  all 
your  mercies." 

"I'm  grateful  enough,"  argued  Quaintance.  "It's 
you  who  are  grumbling.  Give  it  over.  You've  got 
something  on  your  mind.  What  is  it?" 

O'Ferral  laughed  in  his  turn. 

"You're  a  bit  of  a  thought-reader  too,  Steve,"  said 
he,  "and  I'll  let  you  into  the  secret.  I'm  under  orders 
again." 

"Already!"  ejaculated  Quaintance  indignantly. 
"Where  for?  And  when  do  you  sail?  I  thought  they 
were  going  to  give  you  an  easier  time  for  a  few  months 
at  any  rate !  I  was  counting  on  your  company." 


76  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"I  don't  know  where  for,  or  when,"  responded 
O'Ferral,  "and,  if  I  did,  it  would  be  against  all  rules 
to  tell  anyone,  even  you.  But  someone's  in  trouble 
somewhere,  and  I'm  standing  by  to  start  at  a  moment's 
notice.  I  had  to  offer  to  go,  you  see,  because  they 
wouldn't  have  sent  me  otherwise,  after  agreeing  to  let 
me  have  six  months  at  home." 

"What  rotten  luck!"  said  Quaintance  in  comment, 
and  to  that  his  friend  nodded  solemn  assent. 

It  was  yet  early  afternoon  when  they  drew  up  in 
front  of  the  Cornucopia  Club,  and,  having  left  the  car 
at  the  kerb  in  care  of  the  hall-boy,  passed  indoors  to- 
gether. Quaintance  was  inspecting  the  painted  panels 
with  which  the  vestibule  is  adorned,  while  O'Ferral 
was  busy  inditing  his  friend's  name  in  the  visitors' 
book,  when  a  gust  of  laughter  resounded  from  over- 
head and  the  correspondent  looked  up  with  a  quick 
smile. 

"Cornoyer  again,  for  a  wager!"  said  he.  "You 
haven't  met  Jean  Jacques,  have  you,  Quain — er — 
Newman?" 

Quaintance  shook  his  head,  frowning. 

"See  if  you  can't  get  my  name  off  by  heart  before 
you  begin  introducing  me,"  he  requested  with  pardon- 
able asperity.  "I'm  A.  Newman  now,  and  that's  what 
you  want  to  write  me  down  there,  too." 

"All  right,  Steve,"  returned  O'Ferral  soothingly  as 
he  rose  from  the  volume  before  him.  "There  it  is,  in 
black  and  white, — see:  'A.  Newman — introduced  by — 
O.  O'Ferral.'  Come  on  upstairs,  and  we'll  hear  what 
J.  J.'s  been  up  to." 

He  ordered  drinks  of  the  grinning  black  boy  in  the 
little  bar  at  the  top  of  a  winding  stairway  whose  every 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  77; 

panel  also  contained  a  picture,  and,  entering  a  com- 
modious chamber  beyond,  fourrd  there,  comfortably  es- 
tablished in  easy-chairs  by  the  big  open  windows,  a 
dozen  or  more  men  who  received  O'Ferral  with 
jocular  acclamation.  It  seemed  that  the  correspondent 
was  not  unpopular  with  his  fellow  members,  and  that 
those  present  were  in  hilarious  mood. 

The  Cornucopia  Club  does  not  inhabit  any  of  these 
palatial  premises  on  Fifth  Avenue  which  house  so 
many  of  its  pretentious  compeers.  It  has  its  own 
snug  home  in  a  modest  brown-stone  mansion  not  far 
removed  from  Madison  Square,  and  the  carefully  pol- 
ished Horn  of  Plenty  which  is  its  emblem  and  pride 
has  hung  in  the  hall  there  for  so  many  years  that  none 
of  its  hierophants  would  care  to  see  it  established  else- 
where. 

They  are,  on  the  contrary,  a  most  conservative  body 
of  men,  recruited  with  care  from  among  such  as  are 
not  the  mere  slaves  of  fashion,  and  strongly  adverse  to 
all  change  liable  to  interfere  with  an  old-fashioned 
comfort.  The  Cornucopia  is  not  a  club  for  the  frivolous 
worldling,  but  rather  for  those  who,  with  individual 
bodies  and  brains,  seek  rational  freedom,  unhampered 
by  newfangled  by-laws,  for  both.  Within  its  portals 
a  man  may  even  smoke  his  pipe  where  he  pleases. 

Quaintance  liked  the  look  of  the  place  and  its  peo- 
ple, to  whom,  in  a  body,  O'Ferral  had  presented  him 
and  who  had  welcomed  him  hospitably.  The  boy 
brought  him  a  long  glass,  abrim  with  liquid  amber,  and 
after  he  had  half-emptied  that,  he  found  time  to  take 
further  stock  of  his  new  friends.  He  was  especially  in- 
terested in  one  whom  the  others  addressed  as  "J.  J./' 
which,  as  he  had  understood  from  O'Ferral,  stood  for 


78  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

Jean  Jacques  Cornoyer,  and  who  was  suffering  from  a 
very  black  eye. 

This  M.  Cornoyer  was  further  conspicuous  in  such 
society  by  reason  of  his  apparel.  He  was  garbed  in  a 
long  frock-coat  with  voluminous  tails,  pearl-grey 
pants,  stiffly  creased  and  of  the  peg-top  variety,  patent- 
leather  shoes,  sharply  pointed,  encased  in  spats.  A 
tall,  stiff  collar  encompassed  his  neck,  and  was  orna- 
mented with  a  sky-blue  butterfly-bow  almost  as  exotic 
as  the  orchid  in  the  lapel  of  his  coat.  His  features  were 
somewhat  irregular,  and  singularly  plastic.  The  sight 
of  his  sound  eye  was  obscured  by  the  monocle  he  had 
thrust  into  it.  His  hair  was  dressed  in  the  style  of  that 
on  the  business  side  of  a  shoe-black's  brush.  He  wore 
neither  beard  nor  moustache. 

And,  even  as  O'Ferral  had  surmised,  it  was  his  latest 
and  most  misguided  adventure  into  the  night  life  of 
Manhattan  which  had  provided  the  gathering  with  food 
for  mirth. 

"I  have  put  my  feet  into  the  hot  water,  right  up  to 
the  elbow,"  he  explained  to  Quaintance  in  a  quite  irre- 
producible  mixture  of  French  and  English,  his  expres- 
sion of  repentant  melancholy  giving  way  to  a  gleefully 
reminiscent  grin.  "I  have  been  hit — zass!  pataploum! 
— in  the  eye.  I  have  been  in  prison  all  night — vive  the 
glorious  land  of  liberty!  This  morning  they  fine  me 
five  plunks.  It  is  scandalous ! — shocking !" 

"Cheer  up,  old  cock !"  cried  the  man  beside  him 
and  clapped  him  consolingly  on  the  shoulder.  "Cheer 
up,  old  cock !  and  I'll  buy  you  a  high  ball.  You  were 
no  worse  off  than  I  was  when  all's  said  and  done." 

"This  gent  was  with  me,"  Cornoyer  remarked,  some- 
what stiffly,  his  face  suddenly  composed  to  a  mournful 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  79 

gravity,  as  Quaintarice  looked  over  at  the  jovial 
stranger,  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man,  brown-faced, 
alert,  bluffly  at  his  ease  and  yet,  in  some  intangible 
aspect,  out  of  tone  with  the  rest  of  the  company.  He 
had  been  looking  about  him  with  a  keen,  appraising 
glance  before  he  had  cut  into  Cornoyer's  conversation. 
Quaintance  took  quick  inward  exception  to  him  and 
was  inclined  to  think  the  less  of  the  Cornucopia,  but 
recollected  that  he  himself  might  not  be  the  only  visitor 
there.  A  supposition  which  was  soon  confirmed. 

The  unknown  nodded  to  him,  and, 

"J.  J.'s  a  genuine  sport !"  he  exclaimed.  "Hey,  boy ! 
Bring  three  high  balls." 

"None  for  me,"  Quaintance  begged,  and  Cornoyer 
gravely  amended  the  order. 

"One  high  ball,"  he  told  the  waiter,  who  had  been 
looking  to  him  as  though  for  confirmation,  and  Quaint- 
ance noticed  that  he  also  signed  the  check  for  that 
when  it  came  in  due  course.  It  was  evident  that  the 
other,  who  drank  it  thirstily,  had  come  there  as  his 
guest.  But  that  individual  was  in  no  wise  abashed  by 
the  trifling  incident. 

"J.  J.'s  a  genuine  sport!"  he  repeated.  "I'm  going 
to  get  him  to  put  me  up  for  membership  here.  A  den 
like  this  is  just  what  I  need,  to  drop  into  when  I'm 
in  town.  Is  there  a  card-room  upstairs,  J.  J.  ?" 

Cornoyer  replied  civilly,  and,  in  the  interval,  Quaint- 
ance turned  to  O'Ferral,  to  escape  the  onus  of  further 
intercourse  with  the  too  genial  outsider.  The  others 
had  gathered  into  groups,  all  talking,  listening,  laugh- 
ing among  themselves.  O'Ferral  drew  his  friend  to- 
ward one  of  these,  and  Quaintance  might  have  forgot- 
ten the  couple  behind  him  but  for  stray  sentences 


8o  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

which  reached  him  from  their  direction  and  which  he 
could  not  but  overhear.  "And,  say,  J.  ].,"  the  stranger 
exclaimed,  blatantly  regardless  of  his  host's  politely 
uninterested  pose,  including  the  rest  of  the  room  in  a 
rakish  wink,  "I  met  a  peach,  a  pippin,  last  night  on  my 
way  in  from  Long  Beach.  I  give  you  my  word  that 
she  was  the  pick  of  the  basket,  a  full-blown  American 
Beauty  and  ripe  to  the  minute. 

"She  was  driving  her  own  little  car,  and  it  had  broken 
down  just  as  I  came  along  in  my  racer,  a  Cadillac  too. 
It  didn't  take  me  long  to  diagnose  its  complaint,  a  sim- 
ple enough  one  and  yet  most  confoundedly  hard  to 
locate  the  first  time  you  run  up  against  it,  but  I  wasn't 
going  to  give  her  the  proper  prescription  at  once  for 
nothing,  you  may  bet  you  boots!  I  held  her  up  long 
enough  to " 

He  lowered  his  voice,  and  the  rest  of  his  story  was 
almost  inaudible.  But  all  could  hear  the  coarse 
chuckle  with  which  it  concluded,  and  Quaintance's 
blood  boiled  at  the  thought  that  it  might  have  been, 
that  it  all  too  probably  had  been  the  distressed  damsel 
in  whom  he  himself  was  so  deeply  interested  who  had 
fallen  into  the  clutches  of  this  obnoxious  boor.  And 
only  a  quick,  instinctive  sense  of  the  consideration  he 
owed  O'Ferral  saved  Cornoyer's  friend  from  prompt 
retribution,  the  club  from  the  consequent  scandal. 

He  sat  still,  till  he  had  simmered  down  sufficiently 
to  interrogate  the  offender  unmoved,  and,  turning  to 
confront  him  with  the  intention  of  finding  out  all  he 
wanted  to  know  by  dint  of  casual  inquiry  before  invit- 
ing that  individual  to  accompany  him  to  some  spot 
more  suitable  for  further  argument,  found  that  Cor- 
noyer  and  he  had  left  the  room.  Another  man  spoke 


8i 


to  him  as  he  was  about  to  spring  to  his  feet  and  give 
chase.  He  answered  at  random  and,  rising,  interrupted 
O'Ferral,  deep  in  discussion  with  someone  else  as  to 
the  comparative  merits  of  art  commercial  and  art  for 
art's  sake. 

"I'd  like  to  have  a  few  words  with  Cornoyer's 
friend,"  he  explained  in  apology  and  moved  toward  the 
door. 

O'Ferral  followed  him. 

"They're  probably  in  the  card  room,"  said  he.  "I'll 
take  you  up.  D'you  know  the  fellow?" 

Quaintance  hurriedly  told  him  the  story  he  had  over- 
heard, and  O'Ferral  frowned. 

"I'll  have  to  talk  to  J.  J.,"  he  growled,  "about  bring- 
ing a  loafer  of  that  sort  here.  But  keep  cool,  Steve. 
Don't  lose  your  temper.  It  may  not  have  been  the 
same  girl." 

"It's  high  time,  none  the  less,  that  a  loafer  of  that 
sort  was  called  to  account,"  retorted  that  doughty 
champion  of  the  defenceless.  "I'm  not  in  the  Galahad 
line  myself,  but  I'd  draw  on  any  such  scum  at  sight." 

The  card  room,  however,  was  empty,  and  neither 
Cornoyer  nor  the  other  was  to  be  seen  in  the  library. 

"Billiard  room,"  said  O'Ferral,  and  they  dived  down- 
stairs again :  but  with  no  better  result.  They  found  the 
marker  alone,  and  his  grin  of  welcome  faded  as  they 
turned  back  in  the  doorway. 

Quaintance  uttered  a  grunt  of  disgust  as  he  heard 
the  hall-boy  inform  O'Ferral  that  Mr.  Cornoyer  and 
his  friend  had  gone  out  five  minutes  before,  and  when, 
on  an  inspiration,  he  turned  up  the  visitors'  book,  he 
gave  vent  to  a  still  louder  ejaculation,  one  still  more 
strongly  indicative  of  discontented  surprise. 


82 


O'Ferral  came  across  to  him,  and,  peering  over  his 
shoulder,  read  aloud  softly  a  line  at  the  foot  of  a  full 
page,  which  said, 

"Stephen  Quaintance — introduced  by — J.  J.  Cor- 
noyer." 

He  turned,  to  look  wryly  at  O'Ferral,  and  O'Ferral, 
forehead  wrinkled,  returned  his  glance  gravely  enough 
although  not  without  suspicion  of  a  lurking  smile.  The 
hall-boy  looked  on,  ready  to  laugh  if,  as  he  inferred, 
there  should  be  some  jest  in  progress.  But  no  more 
words  passed.  Quaintance  closed  the  book  with  a 
bang.  The  two  turned  upstairs  again,  and  scarcely  had 
they  disappeared  when  Cornoyer  came  in. 

"A  nice  sort  of  namesake,  Steve!"  commented 
O'Ferral,  steering  his  friend  toward  a  quiet  corner. 
"It's  probably  just  as  well  that — Here's  J.  J.  again! 
Let's  hear  what  he  has  to  say  for  himself. 

"Well,  J.  J.  ?    You're  a  nice  sort  of " 

Cornoyer  came  forward,  his  monocle  dropped,  his 
face  expressing  most  abject  penitence. 

"I  have  put  my  foot  into  the  hot  water,  right  up  to 
the  elbow,"  said  he  once  more,  "but  I  did  not  know 
at  the  first  that  he  was  not  a  gentleman.  And  so  I 
asked  him  here  to  luncheon.  And  it  was  not  possible 
then  to  turn  him  away  from  the  door.  But  I  have  give 
him  the  mitt,  O'Ferral,  as  quick  as  I  could." 

"All  right,  all  right,"  responded  his  mentor.  "I'm 
not  complaining. 

"Don't  do  it  again,  but — since  he  was  here  I  just 
wish  you  had  kept  him  a  few  minutes  longer.  Qu — er 
— Newman  wanted  a  few  words  with  him." 

"I  couldn't  help  hearing  some  part  of  his  conversa- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  83 

tion,"  said  Quaintance.  "What  was  the  end  of  his 
story  about  some  girl  he  met  in  a  motor?" 

Cornoyer  looked  much  relieved.  His  features  in- 
stantaneously changed  to  a  mask  of  the  most  profound 
contempt. 

"Faff!"  said  he.  "He  told  me  she  kissed  him — and 
he  let  her  go." 

Quaintance's  face  flushed  darkly. 

"D'you  know  where  he  lives?"  he  demanded,  and 
"Tell  us  all  you  know  about  him,  J.  J.,"  supplemented 
O'Ferral. 

But,  as  it  appeared,  the  information  to  be  obtained 
from  Cornoyer  was  all  too  meagre  to  serve  any  practi- 
cal purpose,  and  Quaintance  had  to  forego,  for  the 
present  at  any  rate,  his  now  almost  overpowering  am- 
bition to  inflict  condign  chastisement  upon  his  un- 
worthy namesake. 

Cornoyer  had  come  across  him,  he  sorrowfully  ex- 
plained, at  a  somewhat  dreary  performance  in  an  all- 
night  cafe  uptown.  They  two  had  been  simultaneously 
inspired  to  improve  on  the  programme,  but,  the  man- 
agement not  approving  of  their  impromptu  duet,  the}' 
had  been  harshly  required  to  discontinue  all  such  gra- 
tuitous vocal  effort.  Upon  their  failing  to  do  so,  the 
forces  of  law  and  order  had  been  appealed  to,  and 
these  had  proved  somewhat  rough  and  ready.  Cor- 
noyer had  acquired  a  black  eye  in  the  consequent 
melee.  The  other  had  rallied  gallantly  to  his  assist- 
ance. They  had  both  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  in 
durance,  and,  equally  disreputable,  pending  repair,  the 
foolish  invitation  to  further  festivity  had  been  extended 
on  one  side,  accepted  on  the  other. 

"But  I  did  not  know  at  the  first  that  he  was  not  a 


84  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

gentleman,"  repeated  Cornoyer  in  apologetic  conclu- 
sion, and  wriggled  disconsolately  in  his  arm-chair. 

"You're  a  pernicious  young  scoundrel,"  O'Ferral 
told  him  severely,  "no  sooner  out  of  one  scrape  than 
you're  into  another.  But  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  forgive 
you  once  more." 

He  laughed  as  the  other's  face  suddenly  lit  up  in  a 
dazzling  smile.  "Mind  you  don't  do  it  again,"  he 
added.  "And  if  you  see  any  more  of  that  fellow  let  me 
know  without  delay." 

"On  the  instant,"  Cornoyer  promised  solemnly,  and 
so  escaped. 

"Pernicious  young  scoundrel !"  repeated  O'Ferral  as 
he  fled.  "I  proposed  him  here,  and  I  don't  want  to  get 
him  into  trouble.  He  was  a  great  chum  of  mine  in 
Paris,  and,  he's  going  back  next  week.  If  you're  ever 
over,  Steve,  look  him  up.  What  he  doesn't  know 
about  that  gay  village  isn't  worth  knowing,  and  he's 
one  of  the  Four  Hundred  there.  His  father  held  the 
French  Foreign  portfolio  before  he  died." 

"No  Paris  for  me  in  the  meantime,"  said  Quaint- 
ance  contentedly.  "I've  lots  to  occupy  me  in  New 
York — and  Long  Island.  It  must  have  been  she.  I'll 
look  for  her  there  first,  anyhow." 

O'Ferral  did  not  answer  these  rambling  remarks, 
and  they  sat  smoking  silently  for  some  time  ere  he 
spoke. 

"I've  been  thinking  over  the  story  you  told  me, 
Steve,  and  the  only  weak  spot  I  can  see  in  your  scheme 
is  that  the  dead  man  might  never  be  found." 

"Then  my  death  would  be  assumed  by  default  in  due 
course,"  his  friend  argued.  "Miles  Quaintance's  law- 
yers will  trace  all  my  movements.  The  officers  at  Fort 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  85 

Bretonnet  will  testify,  when  the  time  comes,  that  I  re- 
ceived the  only  letter  they  had  for  me  and  then  went 
west,  into  cannibal  country.  I  fail  to  turn  up  again. 
The  inference  is  obvious." 

They  fell  to  smoking  again. 

"But  what  would  you  do  if  someone  else  came  for- 
ward to  claim  what  you've  given  up  voluntarily?" 
O'Ferral  asked  after  a  long  interval.  "The  lawyers 
will  no  doubt  advertise,  and — suppose,  for  the  sake  of 
argument,  that  Cornoyer's  friend  took  a  fancy  to  act 
and  the  corpse  came  to  life." 

Quaintance  threw  back  his  head  and  let  three  smoke- 
rings  slip  from  his  lips  ere  he  answered. 

"That's  the  most  absurd  supposition  I've  heard  for 
some  time.  But,  in  any  case,  I've  made  my  discard. 
Whatever  may  happen  now  I  must  play  out  the  hand 
I  hold." 

He  laughed,  lightheartedly. 

"It  would  give  Cornoyer  a  worse  pain,"  said  he,  "to 
think  that  he  had  been  entertaining  a  corpse  at  his 
club." 


CHAPTER  VII 

MR.    ARENDSEN,    OF    DUANE    STREET,     SENDS    FOR    THE 

POLICE 

Cornoyer  had  hurriedly  got  rid  of  his  all  too  genial 
guest  on  the  plea  of  a  pressing  prior  engagement,  and 
that  chance  acquaintance,  having  bidden  him  an  ef- 
fusive farewell,  set  out  in  the  direction  of  Broadway  at 
a  swift  pace  without  paying  much  attention  to  where  he 
was  going.  Although  he  had  been  more  or  less  suc- 
cessful in  concealing  the  fact,  his  feelings  had  been 
deeply  ruffled  by  the  other's  urgency  to  get  him  off  the 
club  premises. 

"Lot  o'  snobs  those  chaps  in  the  Cornucopia!"  he 
muttered  disparagingly.  "I've  no  use  for  snobs.  Give 
me  plain,  simple  gentlemen  like  myself,  without  any 
affectation  of  being  better  than  their  neighbors. 

"But  I  did  think  that  young  Frenchman  would 
stand  for  a  touch.  If  he'd  even  introduced  me  about 
a  bit,  I  might  have  got  up  a  flutter  at  cards.  But  no — 
it  was  all  to  the  door  for  mine ! 

"And  I'm  getting  deucedly  near  the  end  of  my  tether 
too!  That  ramshackle  motor  comes  pretty  steep,  and 
I  owe  more  at  the  hotel  already  than  I  can  dazzle  them 
with  if  they  lie  down  on  me  without  warning. 

"There's  no  use  of  beating  about  the  bush,  Dominic, 
my  boy,  and  this  is  no  time  for  mere  piking.  Your  for- 
tune's made,  you're  a  millionaire  many  times  over,  if 

86 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  87 

you'll  only  pluck  up  sufficient  courage  to  face  Black 
Dirck." 

He  smote  his  leg  with  the  cane  he  carried,  and  threw 
out  his  chest  in  ostentatious  bravado. 

"Who's  afraid  of  Black  Dirck,  anyhow?"  he  solilo- 
quized sternly. 

"And,  even  if  I  do  happen  to  owe  him  a  small  sum, 
I'll  soon  be  able  to  wipe  that  off,  with  interest.  With 
interest,  mark  you.  For  Dominic  Seager's  dead  hon- 
est, just  as  soon  as  he  can  afford  to  be.  And  this  is  a 
sure  thing,  a  brass-bound  cinch.  I've  proof  enough  to 
convince  a  whole  court  of  inquiry." 

Thus  holding  communion  with  himself,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  bolstering  up  his  moral  courage,  he 
emerged,  from  the  quieter  street,  on  the  floodway  of 
traffic. 

"Better  strike  while  the  iron's  hot,"  he  advised  him- 
self, thus  recalled  to  a  sense  of  locality,  and,  as  a  sur- 
face car  pulled  up  at  the  corner,  he  sprang  on  board, 
and  went  whirling  away  toward  the  Battery. 

It  may  be  conceded  that  this  same  Dominic  Seager, 
who  had  not  flinched  before  the  revolver  aimed  at  him 
by  the  girl  on  the  broken-down  runabout,  was  not  lack- 
ing in  that  physical  quality  which  so  often  enables  men 
of  his  stamp  to  brave  bodily  danger  unmoved.  But  it 
must  be  admitted  with  equal  frankness  that,  as  he  drew 
rapidly  nearer  Duane  street,  he  became  mentally  ill  at 
ease,  his  spirit  of  valor  oozed  from  his  finger  tips.  Had 
the  trolley  on  which  he  had  been  traveling  stopped  and 
returned  up  town  ere  reaching  his  destination,  he 
would  willingly  have  stayed  in  his  seat.  But  it  carried 
him  remorselessly  to  the  point  at  which  he  must  alight 


88  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

to  reach  Arendsen's  office,  and  there  he  got  out  me- 
chanically. 

He  licked  his  dry  lips,  but  turned  west  without  en- 
tering any  of  the  saloons  in  sight,  and  made  his  way 
toward  the  river,  spasmodically,  reasoning  with  him- 
self. 

"If  he'll  only  listen  to  me,"  he  whispered  uneasily, 
slackening  his  pace,  "before  he  flies  into  a  Dutch  fit 
and  does  anything  rash,  I  can  soon  make  everything 
right.  But  he's  such  a  dangerous  devil,  that " 

He  slowed  down  still  more  perceptibly. 

"Pooh !"  said  he,  once  more  stepping  out.  "All  there 
is  between  us  is  a  mere  flea-bite  compared  with  the 
stake  I  can  share  with  him  now.  I  can  convince  him 
that  it  will  pay  handsomely  to  let  bygones  be  bygones. 
All  I  ask  is  the  ghost  of  a  chance  to  lay  down  my  cards. 
But,  will  he  give  me  that?" 

He  once  more  shortened  his  footsteps,  hung  back 
indeterminately. 

"If  there  were  any  other  way  out,  I'd  give  half  my 
profits  to  find  it,"  he  thought,  very  ruefully,  "but  I 
know  only  too  well  that  there  isn't,  and  I  must  have 
some  working  capital  or  I'll  lose  all.  That  would  be 
worse  than  anything  Black  Dirck  can  do  to  me !  Now, 
Dominic,  take  a  deep  breath  and  in  you  go.  It's  well 
worth  the  risk." 

He  squared  his  shoulders  again,  and  strode  forward 
without  further  parley  or  halt  till  he  came  to  a  dingy 
door  bedizened  with  an  unclean  brass  plate  bearing  the 
simple  statement, 

D.  ARENDSEN,  Inc. 
Wholesale  Hardware, 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  89 

and,  pushing  it  open,  passed  through,  in  impetuous 
haste  to  commit  himself  to  the  course  he  desired  to  fol- 
low. As  it  closed  behind  him  a  noiseless  catch 
dropped  down  from  the  beam  above  it,  holding  it  fast 
against  further  ingress  or  egress.  And  Dominic 
Seager  did  not  know  that  he  was  already  a  prisoner. 

There  was  nothing  at  all  alarming  about  the  scene 
inside.  A  shabby  office  interior,  much  divided  by  dirty 
partitions,  dimly  lighted  by  two  dull  gas-jets  and  a 
dusty  window,  was  all  of  D.  Arendsen's  establishment 
that  was  visible  until  a  small  shutter  in  one  of  the  near 
divisions  slipped  up  and  an  ink-besmudged  face  peered 
blinkingly  out  at  him. 

He  bent  toward  that,  and  made  known  his  wishes  in 
an  abrupt  and  masterful  tone. 

"Tell  Arendsen  I  must  see  him  at  once,  about  a  mat- 
ter of  urgent  importance,"  he  ordered,  and  raised  him- 
self as  though  that  were  sufficient.  But  the  owlish  eyes 
scrutinizing  him  from  the  loophole  were  not  with- 
drawn. 

"Mister  Arendsen's  out — of  town,"  responded  the 
youth  to  whom  they  belonged,  laying  emphasis  on  the 
prefix  of  courtesy. 

"Yeh  c'n  see  Mister  Braus — or  th'  Manager — or — " 

"7  know,  /  know,"  the  visitor  protested  impatiently. 
"You  take  my  message  up  to  the  whole  bunch,  see? 
Tell  him  I  want  to  see  him  about  the  consignment  of 
coffin-nails  which  went  wrong  on  the  way  to  St. 
Thomas  two  years  ago.  And  bring  me  an  answer 
quick,  d'ye  hear!" 

"I'll  tell  Mister  Braus  that,"  the  sentry  promised, 
and  the  shutter  dropped  ere  he  shuffled  away,  leaving 
Dominic  Seager  a  prey  to  emotions  so  mixed  that  he 


90  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

did  not  observe  the  single  eye  which  was  staring  at 
him  in  pronounced  astonishment  from  another  small 
peephole  opposite. 

He  heard  the  boy  walk  upstairs,  and,  presently, 
down  again.  He  was  suddenly  smitten  with  a  wild 
impulse  to  make  a  bolt  from  the  place,  but,  ere  he  could 
find  out  that  flight  was  not  feasible,  saw  the  boy  beck- 
oning him  toward  a  low  door  in  the  distance,  and 
thither  he  went.  He  followed  his  guide  up  an  obscure 
staircase,  along  a  passage,  and  into  a  room  at  the  end 
of  which  a  man  sat  writing.  The  boy  at  once  re- 
turned to  his  post  of  observation  below,  and  released 
the  safety-catch  on  the  street  door.  Dusk  had  come 
down  outside.  The  fly  was  fast  in  the  spider's  web  up- 
stairs. 

Meantime  the  apprehensive  adventurer  whom  he  had 
thus  introduced  had  seated  himself  cavalierly  in  front 
of  the  desk  occupied  by  the  personage  who  was  at  one 
and  the  same  time  D.  Arendsen,  Inc.,  Mr.  Braus,  the 
manager,  and  several  other  people:  a  very  truculent- 
looking  man,  of  swarthy  complexion,  possessed  of  a 
bushy  black  beard  and  moustache,  a  thick  mop  of  lus- 
treless hair.  He  seemed  to  be  inordinately  busy  just 
then,  since  he  did  not  even  look  up  to  see  whom  it  was 
that  had  called  about  a  consignment  of  coffin-nails  two 
years  old.  Dominic  Seager  had  time  to  glance  around 
the  room. 

It  was  a  small,  square  chamber,  unkempt  and  evil- 
smelling,  scantily  furnished  with  a  littered  flat-top 
desk,  a  safe,  a  few  chairs.  The  floor  was  thickly 
carpeted.  On  the  opaque  panes  of  the  window  which 
gave  on  a  well  outside  lay  the  shadows  of  heavy  bars. 
The  silence  was  almost  oppressive. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  91 

Mr.  Arendsen  at  length  raised  his  eyes,  and  so  sud- 
denly that  Seager  was  startled.  But  nevertheless  he 
met  them  with  a  successful  enough  assumption  of  cool- 
ness. 

"So!"  hissed  Mr.  Arendsen,  with  slowly  rising  inflec- 
tion, and  in  the  monosyllable  there  was  more  purpose- 
ful menace  than  might  have  been  expressed  in  many 
words. 

"Now  don't  get  hot,"  Seager  advised,  controlling  his 
own  premonitions  of  coming  trouble  and  speaking 
steadily  now  that  he  was  face  to  face  with  its  probable 
source. 

"I've  come  to  settle  about  that  shipment,  and  I  want 
you  to  hear  me  out  in  a  rational  spirit." 

Mr.  Arendsen  did  not  appear  to  have  heard  him  in 
any  spirit  at  all.  He  reached  for  the  telephone  stand- 
ing in  front  of  him,  with  its  mouthpiece  close  to  his 
lips. 

"Wulf,"  said  he,  "run  round  to  the  corner  of  Hud- 
son, and  fetch  in  a  cop.  Fetch  him  straight  up  here, 
and  be  quick  about  it." 

Then  he  leaned  back,  elbows  upon  the  arms  of  his 
chair,  hands  clasped,  and  listened,  as  if  for  footsteps, 
his  head  on  one  side. 

"I'll  settle  with  compound  interest,"  Seager  con- 
tinued as  though  he  had  not  spoken,  and  watching  him 
closely.  "Figure  it  all  out  and  let  me  know  the  amount. 
I'm  on  the  square,  you  see,  although  I'll  admit  that  ap- 
pearances have  been  against  me." 

Mr.  Arendsen  eyed  him  curiously,  but  made  no  an- 
swer. 

"Get  busy,"  commanded  the  other,  his  courage  ris- 
ing to  grapple  with  the  occasion.  It  was  in  anticipation 


92  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

only  that  he  had  feared  the  man  before  him.  He  was 
quite  cool  and  quick-witted  now,  ready  to  play  to  his 
opponent's  lead. 

"Get  busy.  You  heard  what  I  said.  Do  you  want 
me  to  withdraw  my  offer  and  go?" 

"You'll  go,  all  right,"  Arendsen  retorted  gratingly. 
"Oh,  yes,  you'll  go — just  as  soon's  the  policeman 
comes  upstairs.  You'll  go  where  you  ought  to  have 
gone  long  ago,  and  you'll  stay  there." 

"Then  you  don't  want  your  money?"  Seager  asked 
easily. 

"If  you  have  the  money,  I'll  get  it.  /'//  get  it,  don't 
fear  for  that.  And  you'll  get  what's  coming  to  you. 
Oh,  yes,  you'll  get  that  too." 

"Don't  fool  yourself,  Arendsen.  If  you  put  me  away, 
you'll  get  nothing.  Take  my  word  for  that,  and  in 
time.  It'll  cost  you  a  lot  to  put  spite  on  me,  and — I 
can  tell  stories  too." 

He  was  beginning  to  fear  that  he  had,  after  all, 
walked  into  a  fatal  trap,  but  showed  no  sign  of  that  out- 
wardly. 

"You  know  nothing  that  will  do  me  the  least  harm — 
now,"  his  enemy  replied  imperturbably.  "All  it  will 
cost  me  to  wipe  out  old  scores  I'll  stand  for — it's  lost 
money  anyhow.  You've  come  here  with  another  cock 
and  bull  story,  and  wanting  more  money.  More 
money,  my  God !  I  know  you  too  well,  to  think  any 
other  errand  would  tempt  you  to  cross  my  threshold. 
It  will  cost  no  less  to  lock  you  up  than  to  listen." 

Seager  was  disconcerted  by  the  intuition  with  which 
his  former  friend  had  hit  the  mark,  and  showed  that  by 
his  next  move. 

"It's  a  sure  thing  this  time,"  he  said,  "a  cold-drawn 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  93 

cinch.  I  have  full  proof  with  me," — he  fumbled  in  a 
pocket  and  produced  a  bulky  package  which  he  held  up 
before  the  other, — "all  signed  and  sealed,  all  safe  and 
certain.  You're  not  going  to  be  such  a  fool " 

"I  have  been  a  fool — once,"  asserted  Arendsen,  with 
dreary  fixity  of  purpose. 

"And  once  is  far  too  often,"  he  added  viciously. 
"You're  clever,  far  too  clever  to  be  outside  of  Sing- 
Sing." 

Seager  saw  that  the  man  meant  what  he  said,  and 
was  about  to  rise,  with  some  faint  hope  that  he  might 
yet  make  his  escape,  when  he  heard  hasty  footseps  on 
the  stairway.  He  thrust  the  papers  back  into  his 
pocket,  and,  when  his  hand  came  forth  again  it  held  a 
pistol.  He  dropped  his  wrist,  so  that  it  lay  levelly  in 
line  with  Arendsen's  low  forehead. 

"If  I  go  to  Sing-Sing,"  he  said  in  a  tense  voice,  head 
forward,  one  unwinking  eye  behind  the  sights,  with  a 
murderous  gleam  in  it,  "I'll  go  for  a  good  reason, 
damn  you !  If  you  value  your  life,  pick  up  that  tele- 
phone and  send  the  cop  away.  I'm  talking  straight,  I 
tell  you.  Don't  drive  me  too  far.  Pick  the  'phone  up 
with  one  hand  and  hold  the  other  over  your  head." 

Arendsen's  dull  eyes  had  dilated  slightly,  and  his 
teeth  showed,  snarling,  through  his  beard,  but  other- 
wise he  had  not  moved.  Now  he  slowly  unclasped  his 
hands,  disposed  of  them  as  ordered,  and  once  more 
spoke  into  the  mouthpiece. 

"Wulf!"  he  said  quietly.  "Wulf!  Oh,  yes.  Is  that 
you,  Oscar?  Run  upstairs  and  tell  Wulf  to  give  the 
cop  a  half  a  dollar  and  send  him  away." 

The  steps  outside  had  almost  reached  the  door,  and 


94 

Seager  was  in  agony.  Arendsen,  watching  him,  could 
not  repress  a  sardonic  grin. 

"It's  locked,"  the  latter  whispered.    "Don't  fire." 

"I  will,  so  help  me  God,  if  it  isn't,"  Seager  replied. 

Someone  knocked.  He  laid  a  finger  on  his  lips  in 
signal  that  the  other  should  keep  silence,  and  thus  they 
waited.  The  handle  turned,  and  there  was  almost  pres- 
sure on  the  trigger  to  slip  its  spring.  Arendsen's  life 
hung  on  a  slender  thread  until  there  came  a  renewed 
clatter  on  the  stairway,  the  footsteps  retreated  in  that 
direction,  and  they  could  hear  the  policeman  grumbling 
peevishly  over  his  bootless  errand. 

The  two  men  in  the  small  square  room  drew  deep 
breaths  of  relief.  That  minute  had  been  pregnant  with 
grave  possibilities  for  both,  but  they  recovered  from 
its  influence  with  an  ease  which  proved  that  they  were 
well  used  to  facing  chances  of  that  sort. 

"Draw  your  chair  back,  clear  of  the  desk,"  Seager 
commanded  briskly,  "and  don't  get  grabbing  for  any 
gun.  I  have  the  drop  on  you,  and  I'll  keep  it  until 
we've  adjusted  this  unpleasantness — although  I  wish 
you  hadn't  forced  me  to  employ  harsh  measures." 

"You're  bold/  commented  Arendsen  as  he  complied. 

"Oh,  yes,  you're  bold.  If  you  were  also  honest  to 
your  friends  I  could  have  done  good  things  with  you 
and  for  you.  I  can  make  use  of  bold  men  in  my  busi- 
ness— but  only  if  they're  also  honest." 

"We'll  quit  that  line  of  talk  now,"  said  Seager  sourly. 
While  he  was  master  of  the  situation  he  would  be 
treated  with  respect.  He  knew,  of  course,  that  all  he 
had  gained  was  a  respite,  but  felt  quite  confident  that 
he  could  turn  that  into  a  free  pardon. 

"We'll  quit  that  line  of  talk  and  get  on  to  business. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  95 

If  you  hadn't  wasted  so  much  time  we  might  be  half 
way  through  with  it  by  now.  I've  got  a  proposition  to 
put  before  you  which  beats  the  gun-running  business 
by  more  blocks  than  there  are  in  Manhattan.  You've 
got  to  hear  it  whether  you  want  to  or  not,  and  you  may 
just  as  well  listen  willingly.  I  wouldn't  have  come  here 
at  all  if  I  hadn't  been  certain  sure  that  it's  sound." 

"I'll  listen,"  assented  his  victim,  "but  tell  me  first — 
What  did  you  do  with  the  money  they  paid  you  for 
those  cartridges  you  took  to  St.  Thomas  for  me  ?" 

"I  lost  it  on  the  way  back,  in  New  Orleans,"  Seager 
answered  rather  shamefacedly. 

"At  cards?" 

"Cards — and  dice — and  the  rest.  The  cursedest  run 
of  luck !" 

"Eight  thousand  dollars  of  my  good  money!  And 
two  years  ago.  I  could  have  turned  it  into  eighty  by 
now.  You  must  pay  me  those  eighty  thousand  dollars 
you  owe  me." 

"All  right,  all  right.  That's  a  mere  trifle,  I  tell  you, 
to  what  we're  going  to  make  out  of  this.  I'm  on  the 
square  with  you,  Arendsen,  if  you'd  only  listen  to  me. 
You  lose  a  lot  through  being  impatient." 

"I'm  not  impatient,"  asserted  Arendsen.  "I'm  really 
a  very  patient  man.  Go  on.  I'm  listening." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   STORY  OF   THE   SECOND   DISCARD 

"After  I  left  your  employment,"  said  Saeger,  and, 
although  Arendsen  scowled  at  this  method  of  describ- 
ing his  defalcation  and  flight,  the  renegade  adventurer 
was  not  abashed,  "I  went  south  as  far  as  the  River 
Plate,  to  see  whether  there  might  be  anything  doing  in 
my  line  there.  But,  what  with  peace  conferences  and 
Pan-American  meetings,  everything  was  dull  as  ditch- 
water.  So  I  took  a  Lamport  and  Holt  boat  over  to 
Cape  Town,  and  had  a  look  in  at  the  little  war  Germany 
was  carrying  on  in  Namaqualand.  But  the  niggers 
there  wanted  me  to  take  cattle  and  such  truck  for  my 
good  guns,  and  that  was  too  dangerous.  I  sold  a  few 
repeating  persuaders  I  had  picked  up  here  and  there 
to  the  Boers — there's  quite  a  good  retail  trade  going 
on  again,  right  under  the  Britishers'  noses — and  drifted 
north  by  degrees  as  far  as  the  French  Congo. 

"Business  was  brisker  there,  but  by  bad  luck  the 
Froggies  got  wind  of  me  while  I  was  selling  off  a  con- 
signment of  Long  Danes  I  had  bought  wholesale  from 
a  caravan  further  north.  They  have  three  forts  on  the 
border  and  are  death  on  'hardware  dealers.'  And  just 
when  I  had  the  goods  humming,  down  they  dropped 
on  me  in  a  bunch.  I  got  away  by  the  skin  of  my  teeth, 
and  with  no  more  than  I  could  carry  about  me,  which 
•was  chiefly  food. 

96 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  97; 

"They  got  all  my  guns  of  course,  and  I  thought  that 
would  surely  satisfy  them,  but  they  came  chasing  gaily 
along  in  my  wake,  and  I  slipped  into  German  territoryv 
never  doubting  that  they  would  stay  on  their  own  side 
of  the  fence,  for  William  the  Second  doesn't  favor 
armed  trespassers,  in  his  yard. 

"But  not  a  bit  of  it.  They  trailed  clear  across  the 
Cameroons  after  me,  and  my  nigger  spies  brought  me 
word  that  they  meant  to  bag  me  even  if  they  had  to 
infringe  on  British  possessions  as  well. 

"I've  been  hard  pushed  in  my  time,  but  those  fellows 
broke  all  records  as  hustlers.  Whichever  way  I  turned 
they  headed  me  off,  and  I  was  so  closely  hunted  that 
even  my  guides  gave  up,  and  abandoned  me.  I  had 
staked  my  very  last  chip,  I  was  ready  and  willing  to 
cash  in  my  checks  before  the  luck  turned. 

"You  don't  know  Darkest  Africa,  Arendsen,  but  I 
do,  and  I  tell  you  I  felt  mighty  mean  when  I  found  my- 
self stranded  there,  in  a  mangrove  swamp  on  the  edge 
of  an  impassable  river,  with  the  bloodhounds  hard  at 
my  heels.  I  won't  say  I  didn't  feel  sorry  then  that  I 
had  left  your  employment.  But,  anyway,  there  I  was, 
at  the  end  of  my  tether,  with  no  prospects  but  a  drum- 
head court-martial,  a  firing-party,  and  a  shallow  trench 
in  the  mud  where  the  land-crabs  burrow." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  creeping  distaste  of 
the  picture  he  had  recalled  to  memory. 

"I  had  calculated  that  I  had  about  an  hour  more  to 
live,  and  was  filling  in  the  time  with  a  few  reflections 
to  fit  the  occasion,  when  I  saw  a  fellow  come  calmly 
sailing  down-river  out  of  the  heat-haze  in  a  canoe. 
Think  of  what  that  meant  to  me  then,  Arendsen ! 

"He  seemed  to  be  pretty  jack-easy  in  his  own  mind. 


98  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

He  didn't  hurry  at  all  when  I  hailed  him,  although  the 
sound  of  a  voice  might  have  meant  all  sorts  of  horrors 
ahead  of  him.  He  simply  sat  still,  and  came  oozing 
along  with  the  current. 

"When  he  was  nearly  abreast  of  me  I  saw  from  his 
dress  that  he  was  a  white  man,  and  hailed  him  again, 
but  he  took  no  notice.  It  gave  me  a  sickish  feeling  to 
think  that  he  might  pass  by  on  the  other  side,  like  the 
Levite  of  scripture,  when  all  I  wanted  of  him  was  a  lift 
across,  which  meant  everything  in  the  world  to  me 
at  that  moment. 

"I  felt  pretty  desperate  then,  I  tell  you,  or  I  wouldn't 
have  done  what  I  did.  The  back-creeks  of  the  Benue 
aren't  like  swimming  baths.  But  I  dived  into  the  mov- 
ing mud  and  struck  out  at  top  speed  after  that  deaf 
man,  crying  on  him  for  God's  sake  to  wait  for  me.  He 
didn't — because  he  was  also  dead. 

"I  saw  that  before  I  clambered  on  board,  but  it  made 
no  difference  to  me  just  then  except  that  it  maybe 
saved  my  having  to  kill  him  myself.  I  picked  up  the 
paddle  and  made  a  bee-line  for  the  far  bank  without 
paying  any  attention  to  him.  I  was  in  such  a  mortal 
sweat  that  it  didn't  strike  me  to  tumble  him  overboard 
right  away,  and  I  was  a  good  deal  more  than  thankful 
for  that  in  a  minute. 

"I  was  doing  some  pretty  quick  thinking  on  my  own 
account  all  the  time,  and,  sitting  behind  him,  with  my 
eyes  on  the  back  of  his  head, — which  was  not  so  dis- 
comforting to  me  as  the  front — I  had  an  idea,  an  in- 
spiration. I  turned  the  canoe  sharp  round,  drove  back 
to  the  place  I  had  started  from,  and  dumped  him  ashore 
there.  I  reckoned  that  I  had  still  half  an  hour  to  the 
good,  and  what  d'ye  think  I  did?" 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  99 

Arendsen  adopted  a  bored  expression,  and  shook  his 
head. 

"I  dropped  stone  dead  there,  Arendsen.  I  became 
a  corpse.  I  said  the  long  goodbye  to  poor  old  Dominic 
Saeger,  and  in  a  damned  hurry.  That  was  the  idea 
that  took  me  back  to  the  danger  zone.  It  was  the  only 
way  to  prevent  the  Frenchmen  from  following  me  to  a 
finish. 

"It  had  to  be  a  quick  change,  of  course,  and  I  hadn't 
leisure  to  sort  out  my  few  belongings,  so  I  stowed  them 
about  the  body  wholesale  as  soon  as  I'd  emptied  its 
pockets.  I  left  it  completely  equipped  for  identifica- 
tion, and  as  for  appearance  it  had  been  so  messed  about 
by  the  niggers  that  it  might  have  passed  for  anyone  in 
the  wide  world. 

"Then  I  tramped  about  in  the  mud  a  bit,  first  in  my 
own  boots  and  then  with  bare  feet,  snapped  twigs  and 
branches,  and  left  all  the  marks  of  a  life-and-death 
struggle.  Then  I  drove  the  canoe  at  the  bank  in  a 
dozen  places  to  show  that  a  fleet  of  savages  had  lately 
landed  there  and  gone  on  again  after  doing  the  white 
man  up,  and  as  I  was  drawing  back  from  the  last 
bump,  I  heard  a  voice  in  the  thicket  behind  me.  My 
God !  that  gave  me  a  bad  start,  Arendsen.  I  dug  out 
for  the  nearest  cover,  and  clung  to  a  leafy  bough 
scarcely  daring  to  breathe. 

"I  had  over-estimated  my  time  allowance,  and  it  was 
too  late  then  to  break  for  the  open.  In  half  a  minute 
the  first  of  the  Frenchmen's  black-boys  were  yelping 
about  the  body,  and  their  yap  brought  up  the  rest  of 
the  expedition  at  a  dog-trot — a  dozen  whites  and  may- 
be twenty  natives  all  told. 

"There  was  a  great  palaver  over  their  find,  and  they 


ioo  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

seemed  disappointed  to  think  that  they  hadn't  been 
there  in  time  to  shoot  me  themselves.  They  never 
doubted  that  it  was  me,  for  of  course  they  searched  the 
body  and  held  a  sort  of  an  inquest,  and  the  first  thing 
they  came  across  was  my  papers.  That  -clinched  it.  It 
made  them  mad  to  see  from  these  what  a  big  trade  I 
had  been  driving  in  guns  and  cartridges,  and  that  was 
quite  natural,  since  it  was  precisely  what  they  were 
slaving  there  to  prevent.  However,  they  were  well 
enough  pleased  to  think  they  had  heard  the  last  of  me, 
and  so  had  their  niggers  dig  a  neat  hole  in  the  mud 
and  tuck  poor  old  Dominic  tidily  into  it.  I  came  near 
to  having  blind  staggers  while  I  looked  on  and  listened 
to  the  damned  crabs  all  crunching  their  claws.  For  the 
funeral  was  within  a  few  yards  of  me,  and  it  wasn't  nice 
to  have  to  attend  a  dress  rehearsal  of  what  might  hap- 
pen to  me  yet  at  any  moment. 

"But  in  the  end  the  Frenchmen  turned  tail  and  made 
off,  in  a  desperate  hurry  to  get  back  beyond  the  Ger- 
man border.  And  I  was  saved.  I  was  saved ! 

"D'ye  know  that  I  felt  pretty  good  then,  Arendsen  ? 
Yes,  sir,  I  felt  pretty  good!  I've  often  faced  a  close 
call,  but  that  one  was  just  a  trifle  too  near  the  edge. 

"Well,  after  I'd  quieted  down  again,  I  began  to  won- 
der who  I  was  now,  and  what  I'd  better  do  next.  This 
is  where  you  begin  to  come  in,  Arendsen,  and  you'll  see 
that  I  haven't  been  telling  you  silly  stories  for  nothing, 
as  you  seem  to  think.  I've  brought  you  up  to  the  mo- 
ment when  I  first  opened  the  papers  I  had  inherited 
from  the  dead  man.  There  was  a  heap  of  them  in  the 
canoe,  besides  what  I'd  found  in  his  pockets. 

"That  fellow  must  have  been  born  unlucky.  He  held 
a  royal  flush  of  the  finest  at  the  identical  instant  when 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

he  was  put  out  of  action.  It's  mine  now,  and  here  are 
the  cards, — diamonds  all  and  ace  high, — with  which 
you  and  I  are  going  to  sweep  the  board  clean." 

He  was  speaking  excitedly  now,  as  he  recalled  the 
prospect  which  had  been  tempting  enough  to  bring 
him  back  within  reach  of  Black  Dirck,  and  that  indi- 
vidual also  would  seem  to  have  been  infected  by  his 
obvious  faith  in  his  errand.  At  any  rate  he  did  not 
take  any  advantage  of  the  fact  that  Seager  had  once 
more  pocketed  his  revolver  and  produced  in  its  place 
the  package  of  papers. 

"Draw  in,"  said  the  latter,  "and  go  through  them 
one  by  one.  They're  all  in  order  from  first  to  last. 
Begin  with  that  one,  and  don't  say  a  word  till  you've 
got  to  the  end.  Then  tell  me  whether  we  haven't  got 
the  game  won." 

The  black-bearded  man  did  as  he  directed,  studying 
document  after  document  until  he  had  mastered  all  the 
details  of  his  fellow-scoundrel's  scheme.  And  he  could 
not  but  admit  to  himself  that  it  was  a  very  feasible  one, 
so  strong,  in  its  sheer  simplicity,  that  failure  seemed 
almost  impossible. 

Seager  filled  the  dead  man's  shoes  to  perfection  as 
far  as  outward  appearance  went,  might  even  have  been 
the  original  of  that  faded  photograph,  many  years  old, 
which  was  included  in  the  collection.  Miles  Quaintance, 
the  uncle  who  had  been  minded  to  make  his  nephew  a 
multi-millionaire  on  such  curious  terms,  was  safely 
buried,  and,  in  any  case,  had  never  set  eyes  on  him. 
Neither  had  the  girl  who  now  remained  chief  factor  in 
the  situation,  nor  yet  the  San  Francisco  lawyers  with 
whom  Seager  had  already  been  in  correspondence,  and 
who,  after  due  inquiry  into  his  supposed  history  and 


102  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

antecedents,  had  accepted  his  plausibly  proven  state- 
ment that  he  was  Stephen  Quaintance.  They  had 
therefore  sent  him  whatever  information  he  asked,  and 
only  balked  at  his  application  for  funds  to  enable  him 
to  comply  with  Miles  Quaintance's  stipulation.  That 
did  not  lie  within  their  province,  they  said,  and  Mr. 
Stephen  Quaintance  must  make  his  own  way  to  the  ad- 
dress in  Paris  with  which  they  had  supplied  him,  and 
where  the  girl  might  be  found.  While,  failing  receipt 
of  proof  that  the  marriage  required  had  been  duly  sol- 
emnized within  the  twelvemonth  which  was  almost  up, 
it  would  be  their  bounden  duty  to  distribute  the  estate 
among  such  charities  as  had  been  designated  by  the 
testator. 

Dirck  Arendsen's  brain  was  busy  as  he  sat  scanning 
sheet  after  sheet,  seeking  for  some  weak  point  on  which 
to  pounce,  but  without  finding  any.  The  evidence  was 
complete  and  conclusive  enough  to  satisfy  any  court. 
Even  had  the  real  Stephen  Quaintance  been  living,  it 
would  have  been  very  hard  for  him  to  disprove  it. 
There  was  a  covetous  gleam  in  Dirck  Arendsen's  eyes 
as  he  laid  the  last  of  them  down  on  the  desk. 

"Well  ?"  he  asked  listlessly.  "Where  do  I  come  in, — 
Mr.  Quaintance?" 

"Tell  me  how  it  strikes  you,"  requested  Seager,  his 
face  aglow. 

"There  seems  to  be  a  fair  start  in  it — for  a  man  with 
the  brains  and  money  to  carry  it  through ! — but  a  good 
deal  depends  on  the  girl,  of  course." 

"You  don't  suppose,  do  you,  that  any  girl's  going  to 
turn  down  the  chance  of  splitting  ten  millions  with  me  ? 
Hang  it  all,  Arendsen,  I'm  surely  not  so  old  and  ugly  as 
that!" 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  103 

His  complacent  smirk  showed  how  little  he  feared 
such  contingency. 

"I  shouldn't  think  so,"  Arendsen  had  to  admit,  how- 
ever grudgingly.  It  did  not  suit  his  own  purpose  to 
see  things  in  a  too  roseate  light — but  he  could  not  deny 
that  no  girl  within  the  range  of  his  own  imagination 
but  would  put  up  with  the  man  for  the  sake  of  the 
money. 

"Have  you  got  his  diaries  with  you?"  he  demanded. 

"Nope,"  said  Seager.  "They're  at  the  hotel,  but 
I've  memorized  the  most  of  their  contents.  I  can  ac- 
count fully  for  the  last  eight  or  nine  years  of  Stephen 
Quaintance's  life,  and  beyond  that  I  know  enough  to 
make  good  in  any  direction.  The  whole  thing's  as 
plain  as  a  pikestaff,  Dirck,  and  you  can  see  that  just 
as  well  as  I  can.  We're  on  to  a  copper-bottomed  cinch, 
as  I  told  you,  and  there  isn't  a  leak  in  it  anywhere. 

"I'm  Stephen  Quaintance,  and  Dominic  Seager's 
done  with.  There  isn't  a  living  soul  in  the  U.  S.  A. 
who  can  contradict  me,  and  all  that  remains  to  be  done 
before  we  can  scoop  in  the  pool  is  to  tackle  the  girl. 
I'm  the  fellow  for  that." 

"You'd  look  foolish  if  she  didn't  fancy  you,"  Arend- 
sen put  in  maliciously  and  to  gain  time.  He  was  craft- 
ily considering  all  the  pros  and  cons,  estimating  ex- 
penses and  profits,  discounting  all  possible  risks.  He 
could  almost  foresee  the  moment  when  he  might  retire 
from  the  dangerous  trade  he  had  followed  so  long,  and 
of  late  with  indifferent  results.  It  was  becoming  in- 

o 

creasingly  difficult  to  find  safe  carriage  for  ammunition 
and  guns  shipped  on  false  bills  of  lading,  and  this 
looked  like  a  direct  interposition  of  providence  on  his 
behalf.  By  taking  it  as  such  he  might  well  retire  with 


104  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

the  wherewithal  to  gratify  his  most  extravagant  tastes, 
and  he  had  a  varied  assortment  of  these  for  one  who 
had  formerly  been  a  ship's  captain. 

"What  difference  would  it  make?"  Seager  answered 
angrily.  "You  know  what  women  are,  Arendsen.  I'll 
find  means  to  have  the  knot  safely  tied  well  within  the 
time  limit  and  whether  I  happen  to  hit  her  fancy  or  not. 
You  may  trust  me  to  waste  no  time  in  my  wooing,  and 
take  it  is  as  gospel  that  no  woman  living  is  going  to 
stand  between  me  and  five  millions.  She  may  make 
any  conditions  she  pleases,  so  long  as  she  marries  me. 
I  don't  care  if  I  never  see  her  face  again  after  the  wed- 
ding. I'll  disappear  and  send  her  a  death  certificate,  so 
that  she'll  be  free  to  marry  again  if  she  wants  to.  All 
she  has  to  do  is  to  go  to  the  registrar's  with  me,  and 
pocket  her  share  of  the  money.  I'll  make  it  so  easy 
for  her  that  she'll  maybe  want  to  keep  me — but  we'll 
have  to  see  about  that  afterwards.  The  great  point  at 
present  is  to  get  married  without  a  moment's  delay." 

"Then  why  don't  you  start  for  Paris  at  once?"  inter- 
rupted Arendsen,  and  the  ironical  question  brought  his 
visitor  to  the  climax  of  their  interview. 

"How  can  I?"  he  answered  irritably,  "until  you  come 
in  with  the  capital.  Cut  all  bluff  out,  Arendsen.  Let's 
talk  sense.  I've  put  the  proposition  squarely  before 
you.  It's  up  to  you  to  let  me  have  a  couple  of  thou- 
sand dollars.  Then  I'll  owe  you  ten  thousand  alto- 
gether, and  I'll  pay  you  cent  per  cent.  It'll  be  the 
easiest  hundred  thousand  you  ever  touched,  and — 
otherwise  you'll  get  nothing." 

Arendsen  was  still  reflecting  rapidly.  He  had  a  far 
better  idea  of  the  value  of  money  than  Seager.  He 
also  knew  that  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  and  did 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  105 

not  spend  any  on  futile  finessing.  The  other  had  per- 
force come  to  him  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,  and  it 
was  a  pleasure  to  bleed  him. 

"I'll  put  up  one  thousand  dollars,"  he  said  at  length, 
"and  not  a  cent  more.  It's  a  sheer  speculation,  and 
I'm  a  fool  to  part  with  my  money  so  easily,  but  I'll 
risk  that  much  on  Stephen  Quaintance's  note  for  two 
millions  five  hundred  thousand,  and  Dominic  Seager's 
for  the  eighty  thousand  you  owe  me  already,  with  in- 
terest at  ten  per  cent. 

"Now,  listen  to  me,"  he  went  on  as  Seager  glared 
at  him  with  a  ludicrous  mixture  of  rage  and  amaze- 
ment. "If  you  kick,  I'll  squeal.  If  you  make  any 
bones  about  it,  I'll  lock  you  up.  If  you  do  me  dirt  in 
the  very  smallest  particular," — he  leaned  forward  and 

shook  a  warning  finger  in  his  confederate's  face, — 
"I'll " 

He  said  no  more,  but  sat  back,  satisfied.  His  man 
was  utterly  in  his  power  now,  and  he  saw  that  Dominic 
Seager  had  come  to  an  understanding  of  his  position. 

"All  right,  then,"  assented  that  worthy  in  a  husky 
voice  and  after  an  interval  spent  in  staring  open- 
mouthed  at  his  oppressor. 

"I've  told  you  the  fix  I'm  in,  and  you're  free  to 
squeeze  me.  But  it  isn't  honest.  It  isn't  honest, 
Arendsen." 

"Tush !"  the  other  retorted,  but  more  pacifically. 
"You're  a  fool,  my  friend,  when  it  comes  to  figures.  If 
I  were  in  your  place  I'd  see  that  the  girl  paid  her  share 
of  whatever  it  cost  me  to  raise  working  capital.  Isn't 
it  almost  as  much  for  her  benefit  as  yours?" 

Seager's  face  cleared. 

"Gad !  but  you're  a  hard  file,"  he  exclaimed.     "What 


106  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

you  say's  very  true,  all  the  same,  and  I'm  not  above 
taking  a  tip  from  a  friend.  She'll  have  to  split  expenses 
with  me. 

"And  now,  if  you'll  count  the  cash  out,  I'll  give  you 
your  notes — I've  been  practicing  Quaintance's  signa- 
ture so  that  it  comes  off  the  pen  as  readily  as  my  own — 
and  I'll  skip  across  to  Cherbourg  by  the  first  steamer. 
Give  me  back  my  papers.  The  girl's  address  is  in  one 
of  the  letters  from  these  rascally  'Frisco  lawyers.  It's 
a  pretty  good  sign  that  they  take  me  on  trust,  eh, 
Arendsen?" 

"Except  in  the  matter  of  cash,"  Arendsen  com- 
mented drily. 

"I  suppose  that  if  they  had  met  your  request  for  a 
loan  I  might  have  waited  long  enough  without  seeing 
you." 

"I'd  have  sent  you  your  eight  thousand  dollars,  I 
think,"  Seager  answered  indifferently,  "if  only  to  be 
out  of  your  debt.  You're  a  dangerous  devil,  Arend- 
sen. But  for  that  I'd  have  been  here  before." 

He  signed  a  separate  name  to  each  of  the  documents 
which  his  companion  had  been  preparing,  pocketed 
without  counting  them  the  notes  produced  by  the  lat- 
ter from  the  big  safe,  heard  with  an  air  of  weariness  a 
final  warning  as  to  the  horrible  fate  in  store  for  him  if 
he  should  play  his  accomplice  false,  and,  having  bidden 
that  individual  farewell  with  the  curtest  of  nods,  was 
escorted  downstairs  by  the  inky-faced  boy  who  had  in- 
troduced him. 

"You'll  cable  me  the  moment  the  bond  is  regis- 
tered," Arendsen  called  after  him,  "and  write  me  by 
every  mail.  If  I  fail  to  hear  from  you  regularly  I'll  un- 
derstand that  there's  something  wrong,  and  be  after 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  107 

you  like  a  shot.  We're  slack  just  now,  and  I  can  quite 
easily  spare  the  time  for  a  run  across." 

"I'll  send  you  the  news,  sure,"  Seager  called  back. 
He  had  not  failed  to  comprehend  the  threat  underlying 
the  careless  words. 

"That  fellow's  the  worst  snob  I  know,"  he  said 
angrily  to  himself  as  he  stepped  out  on  to  the  sidewalk. 
"He  puts  on  as  much  dog  with  me  as  if  I  were  afraid 
of  him.  I'll  teach  him  a  lesson  as  soon  as  I  can  afford 
to  set  up  school.  But  in  the  meantime  I'll  dodge  down 
to  Number  9  Broadway,  and  book  my  passage." 

He  turned  into  Chambers  street  and  took  the  Ele- 
vated, chuckling  to  think  of  the  change  in  his  circum- 
stances since  he  had  come  shivering  down  in  the  sur- 
face car,  and,  when  next  morning,  Arendsen  rang  up 
the  steamship  office  to  ask  whether  a  berth  had  yet 
been  reserved  for  Stephen  Quaintance,  he  was  politely 
informed  that  that  gentleman  had  made  all  arrange- 
ments, and  was  then  on  the  point  of  sailing  for  Paris. 


CHAPTER  IX 

SWEET  ARE  THE  USES   OF  ADVERTISEMENT 

The  spurious  Stephen  Quaintance  thus  successfully 
launched  on  his  nefarious  enterprise,  and  the  man 
whose  empty  place  in  the  world  he  meant  to  usurp  firm 
in  his  resolve  to  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the 
dead  Miles  Quaintance's  project  or  the  money  it  would 
produce,  time  ticked  away  five  full  days  of  the  few  that 
were  left  before  the  twelve  months  should  be  up  and 
the  dead  man's  adopted  daughter  become  entitled  to 
all  those  millions. 

The  real  Stephen  Quaintance  felt  safely  assured  that 
the  strange  precautions  he  had  taken  for  her  welfare 
would  in  due  course  result  satisfactorily  for  her  and 
himself.  He  had  paid  a  long  price,  at  his  own  discre- 
tion, for  the  right  to  live  his  own  life,  to  follow  out  his 
own  ambitions.  He  had  only  one  aim  now,  and  it 
engrossed  him  entirely,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  in- 
terests. 

He  had  spent  these  days  in  an  exhaustive  but  fruit- 
less search  of  the  Long  Island  suburbs,  where  it  seemed 
just  possible  that  the  girl  whom  he  meant  to  marry 
might  have  her  home.  The  only  faint  clue  he  pos- 
sessed was  that  afforded  by  the  rat-faced  Frenchman's 
appearance  at  Rockaway  Beach,  very  vaguely  con- 
firmed by  what  he  had  overheard  from  his  own  offen- 
sive namesake  at  the  Cornucopia  Club. 

1 08 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  109 

The  Night  and  Day  Bank  had  notified  him  that  the 
funds  which  it  had  collected  for  him  were  now  freely 
at  his  disposal,  and  he  had  paid  for  the  car  in  which 
he  roamed  the  countryside,  with  an  especially  keen  eye 
to  the  multitudinous  runabouts  he  met  on  his  many 
excursions.  Once,  at  O'Ferral's  behest,  he  had  taken 
Cornoyer  with  him,  but  that  volatile  youth's  seemingly 
irrepressible  spirits  and  equally  inexhaustible  talent  for 
getting  into  mischief,  did  not  induce  him  to  repeat  the 
experiment.  Until  he  should  have  achieved  success  in 
his  quest  he  would  not  be  in  any  mood  for  making 
merry.  And  while  he  was  in  such  a  state  of  mind  it 
suited  him  best  to  be  quite  alone. 

There  were  now  and  then  moments  when  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  task  he  had  undertaken  depressed  him, 
but,  none  the  less,  he  was  fixed  in  his  purpose  to  per- 
severe. However  it  had  come  about,  he  was  alto- 
gether obsessed  by  the  memory  of  a  girl's  face.  And 
even  while  he,  on  occasion,  chafed  against  its  sudden, 
mysterious  potency  of  influence  over  his  actions,  while 
he  was  still  sane  enough  to  realize  that  he  might  never 
see  it  again,  he  was  determined  that,  if  it  should  end 
so,  he  should  not  have  to  blame  himself  for  any  failure 
or  remissness. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fifth  day's  futile  pilgrimage 
he  passed,  preoccupied,  down  Broadway,  from  the 
garage  at  which  he  kept  his  car  to  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel  where  he  had  made  his  permanent  headquarters, 
trying  in  vain  to  evolve  some  more  likely  scheme  of 
search.  The  possibility  of  employing  a  detective 
agency  had,  of  course,  occurred  to  him,  but  he  had  dis- 
missed it  at  once  and  for  good,  so  repugnant  was  it  all 
to  his  ideas.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing  for  it  but  to 


no  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

cover  every  inch  of  Manhattan,  and  then  try  elsewhere 
if  that  produced  no  result.  He  must  be  thorough  in 
all  his  methods. 

A  bell-boy  caught  sight  of  him  as  he  entered  the 
vestibule  of  the  hotel,  and,  knowing  him  always  liberal 
in  his  acknowledgment  of  such  service,  brought  him 
word  that  there  was  a  telephone  message  awaiting  him, 
which  turned  out  to  be  from  O'Ferral,  and  merely  said, 

"See  to-night's  Telegram,  page  nine,  second  column, 
ad.  twenty-five." 

He  hurried  back  to  the  door  and  bought  a  Telegram 
from  the  newsboy  there,  spread  it  out  on  a  desk  with- 
in, and,  running  his  finger  rapidly  down  the  column 
prescribed,  whose  caption  was  "Automobiles,  &c./f 
found  advertisement  twenty-five  as  follows: 

"For  Sale,  Cadillac,  Model  Q.,  '06,  two-seated, 
with  hood.  In  perfect  running  order.  $450.  Ap- 
ply 3996,  Telegram." 

With  these  words  firmly  fixed  in  his  memory  he 
made  for  the  'phone  at  speed  and  called  up  O'Ferral. 
But  the  correspondent  was  not  at  home,  and  neither 
was  he  to  be  heard  of  at  the  editorial  offices  of  the 
paper  on  whose  staff  he  served.  Quaintance  therefore 
sat  down  to  compose  a  reply  to  the  advertisement.  It 
was  difficult  to  convey  neither  too  much  nor  too  little, 
with  the  grave  risk  hanging  over  his  head  that  some 
other  purchaser  might  anticipate  him,  that  the  adver- 
tiser might  even  ignore  his  communication.  But  he 
finally  solved  the  problem  of  what  to  say,  what  to  leave 
unsaid,  had  a  special  messenger  take  the  resultant  epis- 
tle by  hand  to  its  destination  rather  than  trust  the 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  in 

mails,  and  went  off  much  elated  to  dine  with  Cornoyer 
at  Rector's,  whom  he  sui prised  by  his  hitherto  unsus- 
pected fund  of  good  fellowship. 

Later  in  the  evening  he  again  called  up  O'Ferral's 
rooms,  and  this  time  it  was  the  correspondent  himself 
who  answered  the  'phone. 

"H'lo,  Steve,"  said  he.    "Get  my  message?" 

"I  did.  I've  sent  in  an  answer  already.  How  did 
you  happen  across  the  ad.?" 

O'Ferral  laughed. 

"Faculty  of  observation  again,  I  suppose,"  came  the 
cheery  reply.  "Hope  you'll  have  luck  with  it,  Steve. 
I'm  only  sorry  I  can't  do  better  than  that  to  help  you. 
I'm  off  to-morrow." 

"The  devil  you  are!"  A  long  pause.  "When  d'you 
think  you'll  be  back?" 

"No  idea  at  all.  Wish  I  had!  And,  say,  Steve. 
Don't  tell  anyone  that  I'm  out  of  town.  No,  not  even 
Cornoyer.  Keep  an  eye  on  him  for  me.  He's  not  a 
bad  sort  when  you  know  him.  Must  ring  off  now. 
Good-bye,  Steve." 

"Good-bye,  old  chap,  and  the  best  of  luck.  Let  me 
know  here  when  you  return." 

"Right." 

Quaintance  hung  up  the  receiver  sorrowfully.  He 
would  be  still  more  lonely  without  O'Ferral,  and  of 
late  the  feeling  of  loneliness  had  grown  upon  him.  He 
,was  no  longer  quietly  content  with  the  company  of  an 
unknown  multitude.  His  views  in  that  respect  had  un- 
dergone a  notable  change  since  the  afternoon  on  which 
he  had  first  walked  up  Fifth  Avenue  on  his  return  from 
exile.  For  two  more  long  days  he  scoured  the  country 
without  avail,  and  waited,  with  all  the  patience  which 


ii2  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

he  could  muster,  an  answer  to  his  modest  request  that 
the  owner  of  the  Cadillac  advertised  for  sale  would  not 
on  any  account  part  with  it  before  affording  him  an  op- 
portunity of  inspection. 

Returning  from  a  very  dusty  pilgrimage  on  the  sec- 
ond of  these,  fortune  favored  him  with  a  little  encour- 
agement, trifling  enough  but  none  the  less  to  be  ac- 
cepted thankfully,  in  the  shape  of  a  business-like  note 
to  say  that  F.  Smith  would  be  glad  to  show  him  the 
Cadillac  car  any  afternoon  he  might  care  to  call.  The 
address  given  was  near  Stormport,  Long  Island,  and 
there  were  full  directions  for  reaching  it. 

He  opened  his  map  and  picked  out  Stormport  among 
the  tiny  villages  on  the  north  shore  of  Peconic  Bay. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  letter  again  and  frowned  as  he 
studied  the  crabbed  hand-writing,  which  might  have 
been  either  man's  or  woman's,  on  the  sheet  of  cheap 
note-paper.  On  the  whole,  he  was  much  inclined  to 
doubt  whether  the  car  would  be  what  he  wanted.  But, 
at  the  same  time,  he  meant  to  see  both  it  and  F.  Smith. 
He  would  not  let  any  chance,  however  remote,  escape 
him. 

He  set  forth  for  Stormport  early  next  morning,  and 
made  such  speed  on  his  journey  that  he  came  near  to 
involving  himself  with  the  lawful  authorities  on  that 
score  before  he  had  come  to  the  more  open  roads 
where  there  were  no  plain-clothes  policemen. 

He  had  a  perfect  day  for  his  expedition.  A  cool  sea- 
breeze  was  sweeping  across  the  Island  and  kept  the 
dust  down.  He  got  to  Riverhead,  clean  and  comfort- 
able, in  good  time  for  lunch  and  conscious  of  a  keen 
appetite.  When  he  went  on  again,  at  an  easy  pace  and 
with  a  fragrant  cigar  to  temper  the  tang  of  the  salt 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  113 

air  which  grew  ever  stronger  as  he  caught  more  fre- 
quent glimpses  of  the  grey  water,  he  was  at  peace  with 
the  world  about  him,  even  optimistic  as  to  his  pros- 
pects therein.  It  was  in  such  circumstances,  under  the 
clean,  clear  sky,  among  green,  open  fields  set  with 
deep,  dusky  woods  and  thickets  all  scented  of  the  sea, 
that  he  would  fain  have  met  the  lady  of  his  dreams. 

He  had  just  time  to  finish  his  cigar  ere,  having 
passed  through  sleepy  Stormport  and  wheeled  round 
into  a  country  road,  he  came  to  the  stretch  of  planta- 
tion described  in  the  letter,  crossed  a  narrow  creek  by 
a  rickety  bridge,  and  so  reached  an  almost  untrodden 
track  leading  through  the  trees  toward  the  shore.  Into 
that  he  turned  at  haphazard,  and  creeping  cautiously 
forward,  became  aware  of  a  tiny  octagonal  bungalow 
all  but  concealed  from  sight  by  the  thick  foliage,  a 
small  barn  set  somewhat  apart  from  it  at  one  side  of 
the  path  he  was  following.  He  sounded  his  horn  to 
herald  his  coming  and  drew  up  before  a  low  porch  at 
which  the  path  stopped. 

It  was  very  still  and  restful  there  in  the  shadow,  with 
nothing  to  break  its  cloistral  quiet  but  the  music  of 
wild  birds,  the  crooning  of  the  soft  tide  on  an  un- 
seen beach.  Amid  such  setting,  he  thought,  the  girl 
would  have  seemed  at  home.  But  she  did  not  come 
forth  as  he  had  almost  prayed  that  she  would,  and  he 
was  not  aware  of  the  scrutiny  to  which  he  was  being 
subjected  during  his  day-dream.  When  he  at  length 
got  out  and  knocked,  the  door  was  reluctantly  opened 
to  him  by  a  hard-featured,  elderly  woman  who  might 
have  been  either  mistress  or  maid  in  that  modest  es- 
tablishment, who  bore  no  faintest  resemblance  to  her 
he  had  half  hoped  to  see. 


H4  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

She  was  dressed  in  black,  with  a  light  shawl 
about  her  shoulders,  a  cap  on  her  closely  confined  grey 
hair.  She  stood  there  with  folded  arms,  lips  com- 
pressed, sharp  eyes  fixed  interrogatively  on  the 
stranger,  her  whole  attitude  telling  plainly  enough  her 
desire  to  be  informed  as  to  his  business  and  settle  that 
in  the  shortest  possible  time. 

"My  name  is  Qu Newman,"  said  he,  rather 

lamely  and  gulping  his  disappointment  down.  "I  had 
a  note  from  F.  Smith  about  a  small  car  that's  for  sale 
here." 

"Come  this  way,  please,"  the  woman  requested, 
speaking  with  a  strong  foreign  accent  and  yet  as  one 
who  had  full  command  of  the  English  tongue.  She 
closed  the  door  carefully,  and,  stepping  down  from  the 
porch,  led  him  back  toward  the  barn  he  had  passed.  He 
followed  respectfully,  but  with  small  expectation  of 
gaining  any  great  solace  from  her  society.  She 
seemed  to  be  bent  on  exhibiting  an  extreme  detach- 
ment from  any  personal  interest  in  him. 

She  drew  a  key  from  the  business-like  chatelaine  at 
her  belt,  unlocked  the  barn-door  and  slid  that  aside 
with  an  ease  which  bespoke  much  more  strength  of  arm 
than  he  would  have  given  her  credit  for,  passed  within 
and  produced  the  identical  runabout  which  Quaintance 
had  seen  at  Martin's.  He  recognized  it  at  once  and 
a  more  minute  survey  confirmed  his  first  instantaneous 
impression.  It  fitted  in  every  respect  the  description 
O'Ferral  had  supplied  him  with,  and,  if  anything  had 
been  wanting  in  way  of  evidence,  there  was  a  small  grey 
gauntlet  peeping  forth  from  a  fold  of  the  hood.  He 
had  great  difficulty  in  repressing  the  exclamation  of 
joy  which  had  almost  escaped  his  lips. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  115 

"Ahem !"  said  he,  so  noisily  that  the  woman  looked 
her  astonishment. 

"Does  it — who — are  you  Mrs.  Smith?"  he  asked  in 
confusion,  and  not  knowing  very  well  what  to  say  next. 

She  nodded,  and,  folding  her  arms  again,  watched 
unwinkingly  while  he  walked  round  it. 

"I — surely  I've  seen  this  car  somewhere  before,"  he 
remarked  tentatively,  rising  from  an  inspection  of  the 
rear  tires,  and  regarding  her  from  behind  the  hood. 

"There  are  many  of  the  same  make,"  she  replied 
very  shortly,  and  her  lips  snapped  together  again. 

"I  think  it  was  this  one,"  he  maintained,  and  she  let 
his  contention  pass  without  either  assent  or  contradic- 
tion. He  found  her  niggardliness  of  speech  highly  ag- 
gravating. 

A  bright  thought  suddenly  struck  him.  He  made  a 
most  workmanlike  examination  of  every  vital  part. 

"Is  four-fifty  the  lowest  you'll  take?"  he  asked,  for 
the  sake  of  appearance,  and  she  relaxed  her  air  of  de- 
tachment a  little. 

"It  is  worth  more,"  she  said,  with  the  first  sign  of 
feeling  she  had  yet  shown,  a  faint  expression  of  anxiety 
in  her  eyes.  "It  is  worth  more.  I  would  not  be  willing 
to  take  less,  and  I  ask  so  little  because  I  desire  to  sell 
it  at  once." 

"All  right,  then,"  he  answered.  "I'll  take  it.  If  you 
will  allow  me  to  write  you  a  cheque  and  let  me  have 
your  receipt  we  can  call  the  deal  square." 

But  the  suggestion  did  not  seem  to  meet  with  her 
approval  either.  She  glanced  toward  the  closed  door 
under  the  porch,  and  again  at  him. 

"If  you  will  let  me  have  the  cheque  when  you  come 


n6  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

or  send  for  the  car,  that  will  be  sufficient,"  she  differed. 
"Then  I  will  give  a  receipt  also." 

Quaintance  smiled  inwardly.  He  had  foreseen  as 
much. 

"I  mean  to  take  it  away  with  me  now,  if  I  may,"  he 
said  pleasantly.  "My  car  will  tow  it  with  ease,  and — " 

She  made  up  her  mind  to  accept  the  inevitable,  al- 
though with  ill  enough  grace. 

"There's  only  the  kitchen,"  she  said  doubtfully,  but 
turned  toward  it  without  further  speech. 

He  followed  her  dumbly,  well  pleased,  through  the 
porch  into  a  small  square  room,  which,  except  for  the 
cook-stove,  might  have  served  for  parlor,  so  comfort- 
ably was  it  furnished,  so  dainty  were  all  its  appoint- 
ments. She  crossed  it,  in  haste  to  close  the  door  which 
led  through  to  a  room  adjoining,  but  not  before  he  had 
caught  a  quick  glimpse  of  its  interior  also.  And  what 
he  saw  there  caused  him  to  draw  a  deep  breath  of  con- 
tentment. 

It  was  a  sunny,  pleasant  chamber,  with  a  wide  win- 
dow looking  out  to  sea  and  a  low  couch  thereat,  upon 
which  lay  the  self-same  hat  the  girl  had  worn  at  Mar- 
tin's. But  she  herself  was  nowhere  visible. 

The  grey-haired  woman  set  a  chair  beside  the  table, 
laid  pen  and  ink  before  him.  He  drew  a  well-filled 
note-case  from  one  pocket,  and,  opening  that  to  get  his 
check-book  out,  found,  as  he  had  known  he  would,  that 
he  might  more  conveniently  pay  cash  for  his  new  pur- 
chase. The  woman  looked  well  pleased  when  he  ex- 
plained that  to  her,  and  sat  down  in  his  place,  as  soon 
as  he  had  counted  out  the  necessary  bills,  to  write  him 
a  receipt. 

When  she  had  handed  him  that,  it  would  have  ap- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 


peared  that  he  had  no  excuse  for  lingering,  but  he  had 
yet  one  more  card  to  play. 

"On  second  thoughts,"  he  remarked  as  he  moved 
toward  the  door,  "I'll  ask  you  to  keep  the  small  car  for 
me  till  to-morrow,  if  you'll  be  so  good." 

It  was  a  simple  enough  request,  but  seemed  to  per- 
plex her  afresh. 

"Will  you  come  for  it  yourself,  or  send?"  she  asked 
quickly. 

"I'll  come." 

"At  what  time  ?" 

"Whenever  it  is  most  convenient  to  you." 

"At  this  hour  then,  and  not  later  than  to-morrow," 
she  agreed  grudgingly. 

"It  is  not  that  I  would  be  disobliging,"  she  added  in 
haste,  "but  -  " 

"You  have  placed  me  under  an  obligation,"  Quaint- 
ance  assured  her.  "I  shall  be  punctual  —  at  this  hour, 
to-morrow." 

He  bowed,  and,  as  he  stepped  down  from  the  porch, 
she  closed  the  door  from  within.  He  could  hear  a  bolt 
shot  behind  him,  and  was  glad  that  she  had  not  waited 
to  watch  him  go.  Half  way  down  the  track,  and  well 
out  of  sight  of  the  little  embowered  dwelling,  he  backed 
his  big  motor  carefully  into  the  thicket  between  two 
trees  which  allowed  him  space  and  no  more  for  that  pur- 
pose, drew  the  green  screen  close  again  to  conceal  it, 
and  went  on  toward  the  road  afoot.  He  could  not  in- 
trude further  meantime  on  the  jealously  guarded 
privacy  of  the  bungalow,  but  he  knew  no  valid  reason 
why  he  should  deny  himself  a  glimpse  of  it  from  the 
shore  at  a  safely  respectful  distance. 

Appeasing  his  conscience  by  means  of  such  reasoning, 


u8  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

he  turned  along  the  road,  to  his  left,  and  followed  it 
for  a  short  quarter-mile,  when  he  once  more  took  to 
the  wood,  turning  left  again  toward  the  sea,  threading 
his  way  through  the  tangle  of  undergrowth  in  the  thick 
belt  of  trees  till  he  came  suddenly  upon  a  narrow  curve 
of  sand  with  the  wide  waters  of  the  bay  lying  blue  be- 
yond it.  And  at  the  same  instant  the  faint,  far  echo 
of  a  most  plaintive  melody  thrilled  his  attentive  ears. 

He  stopped  and  hearkened,  his  pulses  hammering. 
The  tender  notes  which  swelled  and  ebbed  on  the  un- 
certain breeze  came  from  no  bird's  throat.  Some  one 
was  singing,  some  one  hidden  from  sight  behind  the 
sandpit  that  formed  one  horn  of  the  half-moon  sweep 
of  shore  on  which  he  had  emerged.  The  bungalow  lay 
unseen  beyond  the  other.  He  stood  between  it  and 
the  singer. 

It  had  been  his  intention  to  saunter  unconcernedly 
back  past  that  shrine,  brave,  if  need  were,  its  guar- 
dian's resentment,  but  now  he  saw,  very  clearly  and  all 
at  once,  that  any  such  trespass  would  be  unpardonable, 
that  it  would  be  only  mannerly  to  turn  the  other  way. 
He  did  so,  strolling  with  an  assumption  of  all  the  inno- 
cence at  his  command  toward  the  low  ridge  which  shut 
him  in  on  that  side.  And,  crossing  it,  absent-mindedly, 
hands  clasped  behind  him,  head  bent  as  if  in  deep  medi- 
tation, stopped  suddenly,  looked  about  him  in  well 
simulated  surprise. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  SEA-BIRD'S  CRY  THAT  CAME  FROM  THE  CREEK 

The  wide  blue  waters  of  the  bay  were  flecked  with 
white-caps  called  up  here  and  there  by  the  uncertain 
breeze  which  whipped  across  it  from  the  hills  of  Shinne- 
cock,  asleep  in  the  dim  distance  with  their  backs  to  the 
Atlantic.  The  rising  tide  lapped  lazily  on  a  white 
scimitar  of  sand.  Behind  the  beach  stood  its  long 
screen  of  woodland,  dense,  many-tinted,  shutting  the 
world  out.  And  overhead,  a  sapphire  sky  held  no  least 
cloud. 

There  were  no  sails  in  sight,  nor  was  there  any  sign 
of  life  along  the  shore  save  for  the  man  who  stood 
there  speechlessly,  unnoticed,  the  girl  whose  velvet 
voice  was  blending  low  and  liquidly  with  the  susurrus 
of  the  undergrowth.  It  was  a  folk-song  of  the  South 
that  she  was  singing,  an  old-time  ode  of  the  plantations 
which  brought  back  to  her  solitary  auditor  many  and 
poignant  memories.  Its  crooning  chorus  thrilled 
chords  in  his  heart  long  mute,  almost  forgotten  in  life's 
changes.  His  eyes  grew  misty,  a  fog  gripped  his 
throat,  so  bitter-sweet  was  it  to  hear  them  once  more 
thus. 

The  singing  ceased.  He  started,  looking  up  in  dire 
confusion.  He  had  been  caught  red-handed,  eaves- 
dropping, a  crime  for  which  there  could  be  no  excuse. 
The  girl  had  turned,  was  gazing  at  him  in  astonishment 

119 


120  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

and  yet  from  under  level  eyebrows.  It  might  be  that 
he  could  still  make  apologies  such  as  should  serve  to 
stave  off  or  at  least  appease  her  righteous  indignation. 

He  looked  her  in  the  face,  because  her  feet  were 
bare,  and  she  was  standing  ankle-deep  in  the  warm 
water  of  a  shallow  creek  which  cut  a  broad  swath 
through  the  sand  there.  She  had  been  stooping 
slightly  when  she  sang,  searching  for  something  in  the 
shoal,  her  back  toward  him. 

But  her  sweet  eyes  still  held  him  spell-bound  for  a 
space,  and,  when  he  in  the  end  found  speech,  he  stam- 
mered stupidly,  his  own  face  flushed.  Had  it  been 
feasible  he  would  fain  have  turned  back,  and  come  to 
her  again  after  he  had  recovered  his  composure.  But 
to  have  done  so  then  might  have  cost  him  his  anxiously 
sought  opportunity.  That  he  must  seize  and  make  the 
most  of.  He  clutched  at  courage,  desperate,  and 
spoke. 

"I — I — I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  bowing  with 
deepest  deference.  "I — I  didn't  know  that  the  beach 
was  impassable  here.  I — I'm  afraid  I  startled  you?" 

She  had  been  scanning  him  closely  while  he  stood 
bare-headed  before  her  in  the  mellow  sunshine,  had 
known  at  once  that  he  was  the  same  man  she  had  seen 
in  Martin's,  and  her  recollections  of  him  had  been  none 
but  grateful.  This  it  was,  perhaps,  which  influenced 
her  to  answer  him  pleasantly  rather  than  rebuff  him 
with  a  chill  courtesy  as  she  might  otherwise  have  felt 
impelled  to  do. 

"The  creek  comes  as  a  surprise  the  first  time  one 
turns  this  corner,"  she  said,  and  her  lips  parted  slightly 
in  a  swift,  fugitive  smile  as  she  looked  down  to  where, 
in  the  ripple,  two  ivory  feet  were  half  imbedded  among 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  121 

the  sand.  Then  she  stepped  ashore  and  a  swirl  of  her 
skirts  sent  them  out  of  sight  altogether. 

"I  dropped  a  bracelet  coming  across,"  she  explained 
in  a  matter  of  fact  tone,  and  Quaintance  was  conscious 
that  fortune  beyond  his  wildest  hopes  had  befallen  him. 
He  would  find  that  never  sufficiently  to  be  commended 
bangle  for  her  if  he  should  have  to  spend  the  rest  of  his 
life  there.  He  had  already  sat  down,  was  untying  his 
shoes. 

"There's  a  bridge  not  very  far  up,"  she  advised  him 
gratuitously,  but  he  was  deaf  to  the  hint.  His  way 
was  clear  to  him  now  and  he  had  all  his  wits  about  him 
again. 

"I  know,"  he  replied.  "I  came  across  it  an  hour 
ago.  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  bungalow  on  this  side, 
to  look  at  a  motor." 

He  considered  a  moment,  wondering  whether  fie 
dared.  And  he  did. 

"It's  yours,  isn't  it?"  he  asked  courageously,  rising. 

She  nodded  careless  assent,  but  corrected  herself  in 
words. 

"Mrs.  Smith's,"  she  asserted  indifferently.  She  was 
waiting  until  he  should  go  on  his  way,  to  resume  her 
search. 

"Whereabouts  did  you  drop  the  bracelet?"  he  ques- 
tioned, but  she  shook  her  head. 

"Oh,  I  can  easily  find  it  myself,"  she  demurred. 
"You  mustn't  trouble  about  it.  I  thought  you  were 
merely  going  to  cross  the  creek." 

He  turned  and  entered  the  water,  leaving  shoes  and 
socks  behind  him.  His  purpose  was  sufficiently  evi- 
dent. He  had  conveyed  to  her  that  protest  would  be 
superfluous.  She  had  no  option  but  to  acquiesce,  and 


122  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

did  so  with  a  little  moue,  half  petulant,  half  amused. 
Which  he  did  not  see,  since  his  back  was  toward  her 
now. 

"I've  no  idea  where  it  may  be,"  she  warned  him  con- 
tradictorily. "I  only  noticed  its  loss  when  I  sat  down 
to  pull  on — when  I  returned  to  this  side." 

"Don't  fret,"  he  answered  cheerfully.  "I'll  find  it 
for  you." 

She  smiled  again,  half  pleased,  half  displeased.  He 
was  so  big  and  strong — so  self-confident.  A  woman's 
intuition  had  told  her  that  she  might  trust  him.  She 
prized  the  missing  ornament  for  much  more  than  its 
intrinsic  value.  As  soon  as  he  should  have  found  it — 
and  she  had  already  spent  a  full  half-hour  on  such  quest 
— she  would  thank  him  properly,  and  proceed.  But  to 
do  so  she  must  first  resume  her  discarded  foot-gear. 

She  slipped  to  the  back  of  a  bush  at  the  edge  of  the 
thicket,  and,  hoping  he  had  not  caught  sight  of  the 
silken  hose  she  had  left  hanging  there,  was  back  on  the 
beach  before  he  looked  round  again,  with  two  points 
of  polished  tan  peeping  forth  from  under  her  skirt  as 
the  wind  caressed  her. 

"I'm  too  far  down,"  he  called  to  her,  noticing  the 
light  imprints  of  her  small  feet  where  she  had  reached 
dry  land  on  the  other  bank,  and  from  there  he  retraced 
his  steps,  slowly,  searching  on  either  hand. 

"It  may  have  sunk  out  of  sight  in  the  sand,"  he  said 
as  he  reached  her  side  again,  and  paused  to  refresh  him- 
self with  a  swift  glance  at  her  mirthful  eyes.  These  had 
strange,  heart-stirring  lights  in  their  irises  now,  sap- 
phire-blue like  the  sky,  turquoise  of  the  sea,  tender 
tints  as  of  wild  wood-violets. 

"I  hope  not,"  she  answered  demurely,  and  the  danc- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 


123 


ing  lights  died  down  in  the  shadow  of  the  long  lashes 
which  had  encurtained  them. 

"It  wouldn't  matter  at  all  if  it  had,"  he  assured  her 
convincingly.  "I'll  dig  it  out  though  it's  half-way 
through  to  Ceylon." 

She  was  smiling  outright  now. 

"Are  you  always  so  successful?"  she  asked,  and  he 
thought  that  something  of  challenge  lurked  behind  the 
straightforward  question. 

"Always,"  he  replied  with  a  whimsical  gravity  where- 
at she  laughed  aloud. 

"How  pleasant  that  must  be — for  you,"  she  said 
lightly. 

"Success  is  certainly  pleasanter  than  defeat,"  he  ad- 
mitted, and  faced  about,  leaving  her,  a  little  abruptly, 
having  no  further  commonplace  at  his  command,  not 
yet  daring  to  give  voice  to  any  more  personal  speech. 

She  was  so  altogether  adorable  as  she  stood  there 
before  him,  straight  and  slender  and  fearless,  the  sea- 
wind  kissing  her  wild-rose  cheeks,  the  sun  playing  hide 
and  seek  with  the  lights  and  shadows  among  her 
tresses,  that  he  could  not  trust  himself  at  the  moment 
to  look  her  straight  in  the  eyes  again.  And  he  would 
no  more  look  furtively  at  her.  Wherefore  he  occupied 
himself  for  a  space  with  the  ostensible  object  of  their 
joint  interest. 

But,  turn  up  the  sand  as  he  might,  the  missing  arm- 
let was  not  forthcoming,  and,  having  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  the  creek  half  a  dozen  times,  he  sat  down  with 
a  great  air  of  exhaustion,  not  too  far  from  where  she 
was  leaning  against  the  grass-grown  bank  which 
dropped  from  the  belt  of  wood  to  the  shore. 


124  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"I  bought  Mrs.  Smith's  car,"  he  said  casually,  hav- 
ing once  more  recovered  full  use  of  his  faculties. 

"Oh,  did  you?"  she  exclaimed.  "I'm  glad — because 
she  wanted  to  dispose  of  it.  You'll  find  it  a  good  little 
car." 

"I'm  sure  I  shall,"  he  agreed,  grateful  that  she  ap- 
proved the  proceeding. 

"I've  been  wondering,"  he  went  on,  with  a  quick  in- 
spiration, "whether  I  might  perhaps  be  permitted  to 
leave  it  with — Mrs.  Smith,  until  I  move  down  here. 
I'm  living  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  in  Manhattan  at  pres- 
ent, and  I've  another  car  there.  It  would  be  a  great 
convenience  to  me  if  I  could  get  her  to  make  some  use 
of  it,  and  so  keep  it  in  tune  till " 

"I'm  afraid  she  couldn't  consent  to  such  an  arrange- 
ment," the  girl  said  quietly. 

"I'm  staying  with  Mrs.  Smith,"  she  added,  "and  so 
I  know  most  of  her  plans." 

Thus  nonplussed,  Quaintance  could  not  well  pursue 
that  subject,  and  a  glance  upward,  to  see  whether  his 
suggestion  had  caused  her  any  offence,  almost  cost  him 
his  self-control  again. 

"This  is  a  charming  spot,"  he  said,  somewhat  lamely, 
feeling  it  very  hard  that  he  should  have  to  limit  him- 
self to  such  banalities  while  words  of  so  much  more 
import  were  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  But  he  realized 
that  he  could  not  be  too  cautious  in  his  walk  and  con- 
duct on  this  occasion,  when  the  least  slip  might  lose 
him  all  he  had  so  far  won  from  Dame  Fortune,  and 
maybe  more.  He  had  no  illusions  as  to  Mrs.  Smith's 
probable  opinion  of  his  behavior,  and  could  not  afford 
a  single  false  step  lest  he  forfeit  his  precarious  stand- 
ing with  the  girl  as  well. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  125 

"Very,"  she  replied  easily.    "I'm  very  fond  of  it." 

"I  love  it,"  he  averred  with  great  fervor,  and  got  up 
suddenly  to  resume  operations. 

He  had  almost  asked  her  whether  she  did  not  prefer 
it  to  such  scenes  as  that  in  which  they  had  first  en- 
countered each  other,  in  Martin's,  but  recollected  in 
time  that  she  probably  would  not  care  to  be  reminded 
of  that  incident.  Later  on,  when  they  should  have 
learned  to  know  each  other  better,  when  she  should 
have  become  accustomed  to  meeting  him  as  a  near 
neighbor,  there  would  be  time  enough  to  clear  up  the 
vague  atmosphere  of  mystery  which  still  encompassed 
her.  He  had  already  decided  that  he  must  settle  down 
in  Stormport,  as  close  to  the  bungalow  as  he  could  find 
a  roof  to  shelter  him,  and,  at  the  moment,  the  best  way 
to  her  good  graces  would  be  forthwith  to  find  the 
bracelet.  That  it  was  which  must  constitute  an  endur- 
ing link  between  them. 

"Did  you  go  far  beyond  the  other  edge  of  the 
creek  ?"  he  asked  briskly,  adventuring  a  brief  glance  at 
her  from  the  brink.  "Are  you  quite  sure  that  you 
dropped  it  in  the  water?" 

A  sea-bird  cried  shrilly  from  the  marsh  beyond  the 
bridge,  hidden  from  sight  by  the  intervening  trees,  and 
at  the  sound  she  started  aghast,  her  eyes  dilated.  He 
could  sympathize  with  her  alarm,  for  the  long,  wailing 
note,  rising  unexpectedly  from  that  silent  solitude,  had 
been  sufficiently  disconcerting. 

"I  went  straight  along  the  sand  to  the  point,"  she 
said  hurriedly,  "and  sat  down  for  a  little  there.  Per- 
haps it  dropped  on  dry  land  after  all." 

"I'd  better  make  sure  that  it  didn't  before  I  begin  to 
make  the  dirt  fly  here,"  he  suggested.  "It  won't  take 


126  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

ten  minutes  to  do  so,  and  may  save  us  time  in  the  long 
run.  If  not,  I'll  begin  dredging  operations  in  earnest 
as  soon  as  I  get  back." 

She  nodded  concurrence,  and,  as  he  set  off  on  his 
errand,  the  sea-bird  cried  again  from  the  creek. 

He  traced  the  impress  of  two  bare  feet  step  by  step 
to  the  further  spit,  and  then  round  the  corner  to  where 
she  had  sat  looking  out  to  sea.  Close  research  there  at 
length  brought  the  bracelet  to  light.  It  lay  half  buried 
beside  a  heap  of  white  sand  with  which  she  had  been 
amusing  herself,  trickling  it  through  her  taper  fingers. 
A  print  of  her  hand  appeared  where  she  had  patted  the 
pyramid  into  shape,  and  Quaintance  stooped  down  a 
second  time  to  lay  his  great  fist  reverently  on  it. 

As  he  hurried  back  to  her  with  his  find  he  could  not 
help  turning  it  over,  and  there  on  the  inside  of  the 
broad  gold  band  with  the  broken  chain  which  had  let 
it  slip  from  her  slender  wrist  was  the  one  word,  "Dag- 
mar." 

"Dagmar,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  the  name  sounded 
musically  in  his  ears.  It  was  such  as  he  would  have 
chosen  for  her,  and  became  her  blonde  beauty  as  none 
other  would.  It  might  well  be  that  she  had  the  blood 
of  some  old  sea-king  in  her  veins,  so  gently  dignified 
was  she,  so  queenly.  He  looked  for  her  eagerly,  to  ap- 
prise her  of  his  success,  but  she  was  not  anywhere  visi- 
ble, and,  when  he  had  once  more  splashed  through  the 
rapidly  rising  creek,  in  the  certainty  that  she  must  be 
ensconced  in  the  shade  of  the  bushes  on  the  other  side, 
it  was  only  to  find  the  spot  at  which  he  had  left  her  un- 
tenanted.  She  had  no  doubt  got  tired  of  waiting,  and 
so  started  homewards. 

That  did  not  in  the  least  disturb  Quaintance's  equa- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  127, 

nimity.  On  the  contrary  rather,  since  it  afforded  him 
fair  excuse  for  further  effort  on  his  own  behalf.  He 
had  now  a  golden  key  to  the  shrine  in  which  he  aspired 
to  find  footing,  and  no  dragon  guardian  need  seek  to 
deprive  him  thereof.  He  would  deliver  the  bracelet 
to  its  rightful  owner  and  to  none  other.  He  whistled 
blithely  while  he  donned  socks  and  shoes,  sang  as  he 
started  along  the  shore  toward  the  bungalow  at  a 
smart  pace. 

As  he  approached  the  small  clearing  within 
which  it  stood  looking  seaward  but  hidden  from  him 
by  a  clump  of  trees,  he  fell  silent  again,  and  was  glad 
of  that  presently.  For,  when  he  came  within  sight  of 
it,  rounding  the  corner  where  a  little  lawn  was  walled 
in  by  the  thicket,  he  saw  a  man  with  his  back  to  him 
staring  intently  at  a  shuttered  window,  whereupon 
he  himself  drew  back  into  cover.  He  had  no  intention 
of  interviewing  a  man,  and  would  rather  wait  till  the 
coast  was  clear  before  calling. 

The  individual  who  had  unwittingly  come  between 
him  and  his  plans  did  not  seem  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
shutter.  He  tried  it  two  or  three  times  to  see  whether 
it  was  securely  fastened  inside,  tapped  it  with  the  cane 
he  was  carrying,  cried  to  those  within  some  words 
whose  import  did  not  reach  Quaintance's  ears.  Then 
he  repeated  the  process  at  the  next  window,  which  was 
also  closely  covered,  and  so  disappeared  round  the  oc- 
tagon, while  Quaintance,  much  perturbed  by  his  pres- 
ence, slipped  noiselessly  after  him  through  the  thicket 
to  see  whether  he  would  go  indoors.  If  he  did,  thought 
Quaintance,  it  might  be  as  well  to  postpone  his  own 
visit  until  the  morrow  or  such  more  auspicious  occa- 
sion as  providence  might  provide. 


128  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

It  fell  out,  however,  that  the  other  passed  the  porch 
and  went  sauntering  down  the  track  which  led  to  the 
public  road,  only  pausing  to  light  a  cigar,  after  which 
he  quickened  his  pace  perceptibly.  And  Quaintance, 
having  assured  himself  that  he  had  really  gone,  felt 
grateful  to  him  for  going.  It  had  not  been  possible  to 
see  much  of  his  appearance,  but  he  might  be  set  down 
as  a  man  of  about  thirty,  was  wearing  a  light  tweed 
suit  and  a  panama,  had  a  flower  in  his  buttonhole,  and 
carried  a  cane  with  much  silver  about  it.  He  was  well 
proportioned  and  comely.  His  carriage  was  smart,  al- 
most military.  He  might  turn  out  to  be  a  dangerous 
rival. 

In  any  case  Quaintance  was  glad  to  have  seen  the 
last  of  him  for  the  time  being,  and,  stepping  out  into 
the  track  himself,  turned  back  toward  the  porch  as 
though  he  had  come  from  the  beach  by  the  same  path 
he  had  followed  thither.  He  knocked  at  the  door,  and, 
while  he  waited,  fortified  himself  in  his  resolve  not  to 
be  cajoled  out  of  the  bracelet  by  Mrs.  Smith.  But  no 
one  opened  to  him,  and  he  knocked  again,  with  a  like 
result. 

A  swift  suspicion  invaded  his  mind.  He  hammered 
upon  the  panel  in  front  of  him,  and  even  that  failed  'to 
elicit  any  response  from  within.  With  a  sinking  heart 
he  walked  round  the  building.  All  its  windows  were 
shuttered.  The  bungalow  was  deserted. 

He  groaned  disgustedly.  That,  then,  was  why  the 
other  had  been  so  assiduous  in  his  investigations.  And 
what  was  he,  Quaintance,  going  to  do  now?  The  bun- 
galow had  evidently  been  vacated  for  good.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  standing  there  gaping  at 
it.  He  must  hurry  into  Stormport,  and  there  make 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  129 

such  inquiry  as  he  might  regarding  its  recent  inmates. 
It  was  still  his  obvious  duty  to  deliver  the  bracelet  into 
its  owner's  hands. 

He  made  for  his  automobile  in  haste,  half  hoping  that 
he  might  still  overtake  the  travelers  before  their  train 
should  have  left  the  station.  Failing  that  he  would 
learn  more  to-morrow  when  he  came  back  for  the  run- 
about. But  how  was  he  to  obtain  possession  of  that  if 
they  had  gone  off  for  good !  Mrs.  Smith's  idea  of  a 
square  deal  seemed  elementary  in  the  extreme ! 

Utterly  disconcerted,  he  turned  into  the  tangle  with- 
in which  he  had  secreted  his  car,  and  received  a  still 
more  distressing  shock,  for  the  car  was  no  longer 
there. 


CHAPTER  XI 
MRS.  SMITH'S  IDEA  OF  A  SQUARE  DEAL 

Fanchette  had  raised  no  objections  when  her  young 
mistress  had  spoken  of  selling  the  runabout,  since  it 
seemed  that,  otherwise,  they  would  soon  be  reduced 
to  dire  straits.  Count  as  she  might,  there  were  but 
twenty  dollars  left  in  the  oaken  coffer  which  was  their 
only  available  treasury  since  Jules  Chevrel  had  de- 
spoiled them  of  their  small  balance  in  the  New  York 
bank.  And  further  forcible  argument  in  favor  of  the 
sale  was  that  furnished  by  the  week's  bills  which  she 
settled  in  Stormport  on  Saturday.  It  proved  most  con- 
vincingly that  twenty  dollars  would  not  last  them  long. 

On  Sunday,  therefore,  they  definitely  decided  to  ad- 
vertise the  car  which  had  been  such  a  source  of  pleasure 
to  both  of  them.  Fanchette  had  very  often  ac- 
companied the  girl  on  her  excursions,  and  had  even 
become,  under  her  tuition,  a  fairly  expert  mechanic. 
Now  all  she  had  to  solace  her  was  the  thought  that, 
since  Jules  Chevrel  was  no  further  away  than  New 
York,  it  would  not  have  been  safe  for  either  of  them  to 
be  seen  about  so  openly.  The  dread  that  the  French- 
man would  yet  discover  their  whereabouts  was  always 
with  her,  and  she  even  feared  that  their  modest  adver- 
tisement might  bring  undesirable  visitors  to  the  bun- 
galow. 

Of  the  half  dozen  envelopes  which  came  to  them 

130 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  131 

from  the  newspaper  office,  five  were  circulars  from 
agencies  and  salesrooms,  and  only  the  sixth  seemed  to 
hold  out  any  hope  of  business  resulting.  It  was  dated 
from  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  subscribed  by  A.  New- 
man, conveyed  no  just  cause  for  suspicion  as  to  its  good 
faith,  and  Fanchette  answered  it  according  to  the  girl's 
dictation,  signing  herself,  for  politic  reasons,  F.  Smith, 
a  free  translation  of  Fanchette  Lefevre.  She  was 
known  as  F.  Smith  in  Stormport,  the  bungalow  was 
rented  to  her  in  that  name,  and  her  charge  passed  col- 
loquially as  "the  Smith  woman's  boarder." 

Their  tenancy  of  the  tiny  dwelling  expired  at  the  end 
of  that  month,  and,  after  having  despatched  her  reply, 
Fanchette  devoted  herself  to  packing  up  their  belong- 
ings, as  some  precaution  against  any  hostile  movement 
in  their  direction.  It  was  for  the  girl  that  she  feared, 
and  she  was  devoted  body  and  soul  to  her  mistress, 
would  fight  for  her  to  the  last  ditch. 

For  these  reasons  she  received  Quaintance  with  a 
distrust  which  was  somewhat  too  evident,  although  it 
must  be  conceded  that  his  subsequent  behavior  af- 
forded her  justification.  In  the  first  place  he  seemed 
disappointed  to  see  her,  as  though  he  had  half  expected 
to  see  some  one  else,  and,  while  she  was  still  congratu- 
lating herself  on  the  fact  that  the  girl  had  gone  off  to 
the  beach,  he  stumbled  over  the  name  he  gave.  Then 
he  asked  idle  questions,  appeared  to  be  interested  in 
the  car's  recent  movements  rather  than  in  its  actual 
efficiency,  which  was  what  he  had  come  there  to  deter- 
mine. She  was  almost  tempted  to  turn  him  away  be- 
fore he  at  last  proceeded  with  his  inspection  and  so,  to 
some  extent,  lulled  her  doubts. 

It  was  no  slight  relief  to  her  when  he  decided  to  buy 


132  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

the  car,  but  that  again  was  detracted  from  by  his  inva- 
sion of  their  tiny  stronghold  and  his  vacillation  as  to 
when  he  would  take  delivery  of  his  purchase.  She 
did  not  quite  know  what  to  make  of  him  in  the  end* 
His  appearance  was  all  in  his  favor,  and  he  looked  too 
frank  a  gentleman  to  act  as  a  spy  in  their  camp.  But, 
none  the  less,  Fanchette,  who  trusted  nothing  in  trous- 
ers, followed  him  as  he  departed,  for  all  that  she  had 
ostensibly  bolted  the  door  behind  him. 

When  he  backed  the  big  touring  car  in  among  the 
trees  half  way  dowrn  the  track  her  distrust  increased. 
It  was  evident  that  he  had  come  there  with  double  in- 
tention of  some  sort.  She  shadowed  him  through  the 
thicket  as  far  as  the  road,  and  stayed  there  on  watch 
under  cover  while  he  turned  along  toward  the  creek. 

After  he  disappeared  she  stood  undecided  whether 
to  walk  as  far  as  the  bend  and  see  if  he  had  crossed  the 
bridge  on  his  way  to  Stormport,  or  to  take  to  the 
shore  in  search  of  her  mistress,  but  that  was  deter- 
mined for  her  by  the  approach  of  a  second  pedestrian, 
who  came  into  view  precisely  where  she  had  lost  sight 
of  the  other,  at  a  point  where  the  road  zigzags  to  avoid 
a  marsh.  Fanchette  knew  him  at  once,  and  all  her 
worst  fears  were  confirmed,  for  he  was  none  other 
than  their  arch-enemy,  source  of  their  every  misfor- 
tune. 

To  fly  from  him  would  have  been  futile  since  he  had 
found  out  their  poor  secret.  She  stayed  where  she 
was,  in  hiding,  and  watched  him  as  he  drew  nearer. 
Her  face  was  pale  now,  her  lips  moved  tremulously, 
although,  to  be  fair  to  the  oncomer,  there  was  nothing 
to  terrify  her  in  his  outward  appearance. 

He  was  a  man  of  medium  height,  a  young  man,  about 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  133 

thirty,  wearing  a  light  tweed  suit  and  a  panama.  He 
had  a  flower  in  his  buttonhole,  and  carried  a  cane  with 
much  silver  about  it.  His  features  were  dark,  and  most 
women  would  have  described  them  as  handsome,  but 
a  man,  a  man  of  the  world  especially,  would  have  dis- 
covered about  them  the  ugly  stamp  left  by  evil  living. 
At  any  rate  they  were  very  well  moulded  and  regular, 
like  the  white  teeth  which  showed  when  he  smiled.  He 
was  smiling  now. 

Fanchette  augered  no  good  from  that  fact.  She  was 
staring  out  at  him  from  under  the  leaves  with  despair 
in  her  eyes,  and,  when  he  came  to  the  narrow  track 
leading  through  the  trees  to  the  bungalow,  he  halted 
there,  almost  opposite  her. 

"PesteT  said  he  aloud,  looking  down  it  as  far  as  was 
possible,  speaking  quick  French.  "Where  does  that 
path  lead  to?  A  field,  no  doubt.  What  human  being 
would  live  in  such  wilds !  Forward,  then,  Etienne,  mon 
brave  gar!  We've  the  whole  afternoon  to  devote  to  our 
search.  There  will  be  time  enough  to  explore  this 
later,  if  need  be." 

He  passed  on,  and  Fanchette  still  stared,  but  it  was 
at  his  back  now.  Her  pale  lips  parted  and  the  breath 
came  quickly  through  them.  Her  bosom  heaved.  She 
started,  as  if  from  a  trance,  crossed  herself,  wrung  her 
hands,  and  fled  swiftly  toward  the  bungalow. 

Half-way  up  the  lane  she  paused,  a  desperate  scheme 
of  escape  already  afloat  in  her  mind.  There  was  only 
the  stranger's  motor,  and — her  need  was  very  urgent. 
In  it  lay  a  last  rash  resort,  the  sole,  slender  thread  of 
hope  that  she  might  yet  save  the  situation  and  with 
every  chance  against  her. 

"Heaven  help  us  if  I'm  caught  at  it !"  said  Fanchette, 


134  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

and  pushed  through  the  branches  behind  which  the  big 
car  was  hidden. 

In  action  she  soon  recovered  her  self-command,  be- 
came once  more  cool  and  resourceful.  The  possibility 
of  success  in  such  enterprise  was  of  the  slightest,  but, 
be  the  upshot  what  it  might,  she  was  ready  to  run  the 
risk.  She  drove  the  big  touring-car  up  to  the  porch, 
managing  it  without  difficulty,  and  left  it  there  while 
she  was  preparing  for  flight.  In  case  its  owner  should 
return  inopportunely  she  could  explain  to  him  that  it 
had  been  unsafe  where  he  had  left  it. 

It  did  not  take  ten  minutes  to  finish  the  light  packing 
left  to  be  done,  and,  having  dragged  the  heavy  baggage 
as  far  as  the  kitchen,  she  set  shutters  on  the  windows, 
working  with  method,  at  her  best  speed.  She  was 
wonderfully  active  for  a  woman  of  her  years,  and  ex- 
citement lent  her  added  strength.  When  all  was  ready 
for  the  road  she  loaded  the  car  up,  its  folding  seats  al- 
lowing her  space  sufficient.  The  entire  personal  prop- 
erty of  the  bungalow's  two  inmates  was  much  less 
bulky  than  it  might  have  been. 

At  the  crucial  moment,  she  remembered  that 
she  must  leave  word  for  the  owner  of  the  car,  lest  he 
should  think  she  had  stolen  it  outright.  She  sat  down, 
trembling  with  nervous  impatience,  and  penned  a  hur- 
ried note,  assuring  him  that  it  would  be  safely  returned 
to  him  at  his  hotel  in  Manhattan,  imploring  him  to  ex- 
cuse the  liberty  which  she  had  perforce  taken,  telling 
him  that  the  key  of  the  barn  in  which  trie  runabout  was 
housed  might  be  found  hanging  in  the  outer  porch.  In 
it,  she  thought,  he  might  well  reach  New  York,  and, 
on  the  whole,  he  would  not  be  excessively  inconveni- 
enced. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  135 

This  she  left  in  an  envelope  transfixed  to  a  tree- 
trunk  where  he  could  not  but  catch  sight  of  it  when  he 
came  for  his  car,  and  drove  on  with  the  keys  of  the 
empty  bungalow  on  the  seat  beside  her.  These  she 
would  leave  in  Stormport.  And  the  house  was  clean  as 
a  new  pin.  There  need  be  no  notoriety  or  unpleasant- 
ness about  their  departure — if  they  were  only  allowed 
to  depart. 

Her  heart  was  thumping  audibly  as  she  slowed  down 
to  take  the  turn  into  the  public  road,  and  she  felt  sure 
she  must  scream  if  she  should  discover  any  man  on  the 
open  stretch  there.  It  was  empty,  and  she  gulped 
down  a  great,  dry  sob  as  she  sped  forward  reck- 
lessly, knowing  that  it  was  now  too  late  to  falter  or 
turn  back.  She  took  the  curves  at  a  dangerous  pace, 
scarcely  using  the  horn  in  case  it  should  attract  un- 
friendly attention,  and,  as  she  stopped  at  the  roadside 
before  the  bridge,  sent  a  long,  wailing  cry  ringing 
shorewards,  the  call  of  a  sea-bird  which  she  had  learned 
as  a  child  on  the  rocks  of  La  Roche-Segur. 

She  had  taught  her  young  mistress  that,  in  prevision 
of  just  such  mischance.  If  only  the  girl  should  have 
heard  it,  all  might  yet  go  well.  So  far  everything  had 
turned  out  in  her  favor,  and  she  must  rely  on  its  carry- 
ing power  for  the  final  accomplishment  of  her  bold  pro- 
ject. She  repressed  her  increasing  disquiet  with  a  great 
effort,  and,  after  an  interval,  uttered  the  cry  again. 

A  few  moments  later  she  caught  sight  of  a  white 
dress  moving  rapidly  through  the  near  thicket  in  her 
direction,  and  presently  the  girl  emerged,  faintly 
flushed,  somewhat  breathless,  and  gravely  alarmed,  but 
collected  enough. 

"What  is  it,  Fanchette?"  she  cried  as  she  came  to 


136  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

the  edge  of  the  road  and  looked  out  to  where  the  other 
was  beckoning  her  to  make  still  more  haste. 

"It  is  Monsieur!"  Fanchette  replied  without  waste 
of  words.  "He  is  here.  I  saw  him  myself.  We  must 
fly.  Will  you  take  the  wheel  from  me.  My  eyes " 

The  girl  jumped  in  beside  her  and  threw  an  arm 
round  her  neck,  regardless  of  her  own  interests  in  her 
quick  sympathy  with  the  other's  overstrung  tears. 

"Poor  Fanchette !"  she  said  soothingly,  and  the  hard- 
featured  maid  recovered  herself  at  once  under  the 
stress  of  their  dire  necessity. 

"Let  us  go  on,"  she  implored.  "There  is  not  a  mo- 
ment to  lose.  All  I  have  to  tell  you  will  hear  by  the 
way,  and  meantime  let  us  go  on." 

The  girl  slipped  obediently  into  the  driving  seat. 
She  must  trust  herself  to  the  other's  guidance,  since 
she  herself  was  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  everything  ex- 
cept the  broad  fact  that  Monsieur  was  in  the  near 
neighborhood,  hard  on  their  trail.  And  that  spur  was 
more  than  sufficient. 

"Whither,  Fanchette?"  she  asked. 

"Through  Stormport,  to  leave  the  keys,  and  then  to 
New  York." 

They  were  into  the  village  before  there  was  time  for 
any  further  remark,  and  out  again  at  the  extreme  limit 
of  legal  speed.  The  high-powered  car  purred  softly 
as  its  fair  driver  gave  it  its  head  by  degrees  until  it 
was  stretching  out  to  its  work  in  earnest.  Fanchette 
sat  stiffly  with  her  hands  folded  in  front  of  her,  turn- 
ing over  in  her  own  mind  the  possible  consequences  of 
crime,  seeking  some  plan  to  save  her  mistress  scathe- 
less, but  by  no  means  penitent.  The  girl  crouched  over 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  137 

the  wheel,  her  sombrely  sparkling  eyes  all  intent  on 
her  own  task. 

Reaching  Riverhead,  they  had  to  slow  down,  and, 
having  passed  safely  through  its  long,  sleepy  street, 
Fanchette  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief. 

"You  are  sure  it  was  Monsieur  himself?"  her  com- 
panion asked  suddenly.  "Did  he  have  speech  with  you, 
Fanchette?  Tell  me  what  has  happened.  I  can't  un- 
derstand." 

"I  was  at  the  end  of  the  path,  at  the  roadside,  when 
he  passed  by,"  Fanchette  answered,  "but  he  did  not  see 
me.  He  thought  it  looked  too  rough  to  lead  to  a 
house,  and  went  further  on.  But  he  will  be  back  at 
the  bungalow  before  dark." 

The  girl  gave  vent  to  a  tired  sigh,  and  her  proud 
head  drooped.  But  she  soon  bethought  herself  again 
of  their  strange  position. 

"And  this  car,  Fanchette?"  she  inquired,  looking 
over  her  shoulder.  "Where  did  it  come  from  ?" 

"I  borrowed  it,"  replied  Fanchette  briefly.  "I  am  to 
return  it  to  its  owner  as  soon  as  we  reach  New  York." 

She  compressed  her  lips,  determined  to  part  with  no 
further  explanation  on  that  point,  but  the  precaution 
was  needless.  Her  charge  was  accustomed  to  taking  a 
good  deal  for  granted  when  Fanchette  assumed  con- 
trol, and  results  had  always  justified  her  in  her  confi- 
dence. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  when  we  get  there?"  she 
asked  reflectively,  and  Fanchette  swiftly  unfolded  the 
scheme  she  had  formed. 

"I  think,"  she  suggested,  "that,  while  Monsieur  is  in 
this  country,  we  should  hasten  back  to  Paris  that  you 
may  obtain  the  money  you  still  have  left  in  the  bank 


138  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

there.  It  will  be  easy  enough  to  withdraw  it  in  per- 
son, while  he  is  absent.  And,  with  it,  you  will  be  free 
to  return  to  America,  or  you  might  live  in  England  at 

less  expense,  or .  There  are  other  countries  also. 

If  we  go  at  once,  there  will  be  the  less  risk,  and  we  can 
learn  in  Paris  when  he  is  expected  back,  so  that  we  may 
be  elsewhere  before  he  arrives." 

"That  seems  a  good  plan,"  the  girl  agreed  wearily. 

"And  we  might  go  on  to  London  from  Paris.  It 
should  surely  be  possible  to  bury  oneself  there.  I've 
paid  a  long  price  for  my  folly,  Fanchette,  and  you've 
paid  heavily  too.  I  don't  know  what  I'd  be  doing 
without  you.  Life  wouldn't  be  worth  living  now,  if  I 
were  entirely  alone." 

Fanchette  fondled  the  white  hand  on  the  steering- 
wheel. 

"I  shall  always  be  mademoiselle's  to  command,"  she 
replied  with  a  tender  formality  meant  to  conceal  the 
wistful  affection  which  was  making  her  voice  tremble. 
And,  having  thus  mapped  out  their  immediate  future, 
they  both  fell  silent  again. 

Mile  after  mile  dropped  away  from  the  whirring 
wheels,  and  Fanchette  felt  ever  more  confident  that  her 
appeal  to  the  owner  of  the  providential  car  had  not 
failed  of  good  effect.  She  had  been  dumbly  dreading 
that,  somewhere  along  the  road,  a  policeman  would 
spring  out  and  stop  them,  bid  them  turn  back  to 
Stormport  and  take  him  with  them.  In  which  case 
she  could  but  admit  that  she  was  thief  and  a  robber, 
beg  that  her  innocent  mistress  should  be  allowed  to 
proceed  by  train  to  the  city.  But,  as  dusk  settled  over 
the  open  landscape,  she  plucked  up  heart,  and  when, 
after  a  fast  run,  they  had  driven  unharmed  through 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  139 

the  lighted  streets  of  Jamaica,  she  had  almost  dis- 
counted the  possibility  that  they  might  still  be  held  up 
at  the  ferry  ahead  of  them. 

She  was  the  more  dismayed,  therefore,  when  a  man 
hailed  them  as  they  drove  into  the  dock  and  stooped 
down  to  identify  the  registered  number  in  front  of  the 
car.  She  had  thrown  the  rug  from  her  knees  in  readi- 
ness to  descend  and  be  marched  off  to  prison,  when  he 
came  forward  holding  out  a  yellow  envelope,  which, 
she  felt  sure,  must  be  legal  warrant  for  her  arrest. 

"For  Miss  Dagmar,"  he  announced  briefly,  and,  hav- 
ing handed  it  to  that  astonished  damsel,  made  off  with- 
out more  ado. 

There  was  no  time  to  open  it  then,  and,  while  they 
crept  forward  on  to  the  ferry,  Fanchette  made  full  con- 
fession of  her  misdeed. 

"Jump  out  and  leave  me  now,  ma'mselle,"  she 
begged  in  conclusion  as  they  came  to  a  standstill  on 
deck.  "Here  is  the  money  I  got  for  you,  four  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars.  You  must  escape  with  the  crowd  at 
the  other  side,  and  leave  me  to  explain  matters  to  the 
police." 

The  girl  looked  grave,  and  made  no  reply  until  she 
had  opened  the  envelope.  The  message  it  held  merely 
said : 

"I  have  found  your  bracelet.  Please  leave  word 
where  I  may  deliver  it.  Hope  you  have  had  a  pleasant 
run.  Newman." 

She  read  that  out  to  Fanchette,  and  then  had  to  con- 
fess her  own  encounter  with  the  car's  owner,  so  that, 
in  view  of  his  unexpected  urbanity  under  grave  griev- 
ance, neither  had  any  fault  to  find  with  the  other,  and 
both  were  inwardly  prepossessed  by  the  tact  he  had  dis- 


I4o  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

played  in  a  position  which  could  not  but  have  been 
most  aggravating  to  him. 

Fanchette's  fears  thus  finally  dissipated  she  even 
ventured  to  justify  herself  in  her  evil-doing,  and  the 
girl  did  not  contradict  her  assertion  that,  in  any  case, 
all  had  turned  out  for  the  very  best.  She  herself  was 
thinking  of  the  strong,  sun-tanned  face,  of  the  fearless 
but  very  appealing  brown  eyes  she  had  left  behind  on 
the  beach,  wondering  what  the  man  who  was  always 
successful  would  say  if  he  could  hear  her  own  sad  story 
of  failure.  And  she  did  not  crumple  the  telegram  up, 
but  kept  it  smooth  and  carried  it  to  the  hotel  with  her. 

She  drove  along  Twenty-ninth  street  to  the  Martha 
Washington,  and,  leaving  Fanchette  to  look  to  the  bag- 
gage, sat  down  at  a  desk  to  pen  a  reply.  Fanchette 
took  that  and  the  car  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  where 
she  entrusted  both  to  the  guardian  of  the  Twenty- 
fourth  street  entrance,  who  willingly  took  charge  of 
them  after  he  had  recovered  from  his  first  astonish- 
ment at  sight  of  such  an  unusual  chauffeur.  When  she 
got  back  to  Twenty-ninth  street,  she  found  her  mis- 
tress poring  over  a  steamship  guide. 

"There's  a  boat  for  Havre  to-morrow  at  ten,  Fan- 
chette," said  the  girl,  "and  I've  booked  two  berths." 

"Yes,  ma'mselle,"  answered  Fanchette  submissively, 
but  also  in  earnest  approval.  And  her  heart  was  filled 
with  gratitude  to  the  man  whose  forbearance  had  thus 
enabled  her  to  snatch  her  lamb  from  the  very  jaws  of 
the  wolf.  It  would  no  doubt  have  gratified  Quaint- 
ance  greatly  to  know  how  he  had  risen  in  her  esteem. 

But  Quaintance  was  in  quite  another  mood  with 
regard  to  her.  And  who  shall  blame  him  ?  For,  while 
he  still  stood,  blinking,  bewildered,  within  the  thicket 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  141 

in  whose  safe  keeping  he  had  left  his  car,  a  hundred 
ugly  suspicions  invaded  his  mind.  The  worst  of 
these  was  that  he  might  have  been  mistaken  in  his  es- 
timate of  the  girl. 

He  recalled  each  circumstance  connected  with  her, 
from  the  moment  when  he  had  first  noticed  her  on 
Fifth  Avenue,  to  her  hasty  nod  of  concurrence 
in  the  errand  which  had  so  recently  sundered  them, 
and  given  her  opportunity  to  escape  him.  He  did  not 
forget  the  rat-faced  Frenchman,  or  Mrs.  Smith's  ob- 
vious constraint  with  himself :  nor  yet  the  individual  he 
had  seen  seeking  ingress  to  the  bungalow. 

Looking  facts  in  the  face  he  found  himself  minus 
a  costly  touring  car  and  a  round  sum  in  cash.  As  sole 
offset  to  which  he  had  acquired  a  plain  gold  bracelet, 
engraved  with  the  name  "  Dagmar."  That  was  what 
hurt  him  most  —  the  idea  that  "  Dagmar" 

He  stood  there  frowning  vexedly,  biting  his  lip,  and 
his  eyes  lit  on  an  envelope  affixed  to  a  tree-trunk  by 
means  of  a  woman's  hat-pin.  It  was  addressed  to  him- 
self, and  he  was  soon  possessed  of  Fanchette's  impas- 
sioned appeal.  It  left  him  in  gravest  perplexity, 
quite  undecided  how  he  should  act,  for  five  full  min- 
utes before  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  could  not 
very  well  interfere  now  with  her  high-handed  proce- 
dure. 

He  had  no  doubt  that  the  girl  had  gone  off  with  her, 
and  to  New  York,  since  the  touring  car  was  to  be  re- 
delivered  to  him  at  his  hotel  there.  And  for  that 
reason  he  could  not  well  take  any  steps  to  intercept  it 
en  route.  He  would  rather  suffer  its  total  loss  uncom- 
plainingly, if  Mrs.  Smith  cared  to  take  such  further 


I42  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

advantage  of  his  complaisance,  than  have  the  girl  sub- 
jected to  any  annoyance  which  he  could  save  her. 

Some  thought  of  pursuit  crossed  his  mind,  but  He 
soon  dismissed  that.  The  fugitives  had  nearly  an  hour's 
start  already,  and  it  was  not  likely  that  the  runabout 
could  overtake  the  touring  car  under  any  such  handi- 
cap. There  was  obviously  nothing  for  it  but  to  make 
the  best  of  his  own  way  back  to  Manhattan,  reserving 
the  right  to  call  Mrs.  Smith  to  account  for  her  piratical 
conduct  at  the  earliest  opportunity. 

But  he  was  in  the.  worst  of  tempers  as  he  once  more 
made  for  the  porch  to  procure  the  key  of  the  barn.  The 
atmosphere  of  mystery  in  which  the  girl  seemed  to 
move  was  extremely  distasteful  to  him.  He  found 
Mrs.  Smith's  manoeuvres  intensely  irritating,  and  could 
by  no  means  divine  the  nature  of  the  alleged  necessity 
which  had  deprived  him  of  his  anticipated  reward  for 
having  recovered  the  missing  bracelet. 

It  was  partly  a  magnanimous  impulse  and  partly  a 
plan  in  furtherance  of  his  own  interests  which  caused 
him  to  stop  at  the  station  in  Stormport  and  send  on 
the  wire  whose  delivery  at  the  dock  in  Long  Island 
City  had  so  alarmed  Fanchette.  And,  having  done 
that,  he  settled  down  to  his  long,  lonely  run,  fretting 
all  the  way  to  New  York  over  these  complications,  by 
no  means  the  least  of  which  was  the  young  man  in 
the  light  tweed  suit  and  panama. 

It  was  after  eleven  when  he  reached  the  garage  off 
Broadway  where  he  kept  his  car,  and  there  the  car  was 
in  its  usual  place.  The  hotel  had  called  up  soon  after 
nine,  a  clerk  told  him,  to  ask  that  some  one  be  sent  to 
take  Mr.  Newman's  automobile  away  from  the  Twenty- 
fourth  street  entrance. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  143 

Quaintance  had  his  new  purchase  installed  at  its  side, 
and,  having  left  strict  injunctions  that  the  smaller  car 
be  very  carefully  cleaned  and  tended,  hurried  off  to 
cross-question  the  Twenty-fourth  street  door-keeper. 
That  worthy  had  a  letter  for  him,  and  earned  an  easy 
dollar  by  imparting  to  him  the  details  of  a  very  brief 
interview  with  the  grey-haired,  elderly  woman  who  had 
delivered  it  with  the  car.  Whereafter  the  recipient  of 
that  attention  hurried  off  to  his  room,  there  to  peruse 
the  precious  missive  at  leisure.  He  had  already  noticed 
that  the  address  had  not  been  penned  by  Mrs.  Smith. 

"Believe  me,  I  regret  the  trouble  I  have  caused  you,"  it 
said,  in  clear,  straightforward  handwriting  which  some- 
how brought  back  to  him  still  more  vividly  the  writer's 
fair,  frank  face. 

"//  you  will  kindly  keep  the  bracelet  as," — as  had  been 
crossed  out  and  until  substituted — "//  you  will  kindly 
keep  the  bracelet  until  I  find  an  opportunity  to  send  for  it 
I  shall  be  still  more  grateful  to  you." 

It  said  no  more  than  that,  and  was  signed  simply 
"Dagmar."  Paper  nor  envelope  held  any  single  clue 
to  where  it  had  been  written.  She  did  not  mean  that 
he  should  know  her  whereabouts.  Quaintance  judged 
rightly  that  she  would  let  the  matter  rest  there,  that 
he  would  hear  no  more  from  her,  might  count  the 
bracelet  his  now.  He  read  between  the  lines  that  she 
would  thus  pay  forfeit  gracefully,  and  end  the  incident. 
He  did  not  blame  her  for  a  moment,  but  neither  did  he 
hold  himself  bound  to  accept  dismissal  otherwise  than 
in  specific  terms.  He  sat  up  late,  smoking  pipe  after 
pipe,  revolving  fresh  plans  for  her  rediscovery. 

Next  morning  he  was  up  betimes,  betook  himself 
with  his  cigar  along  Fifth  Avenue.  None  of  his  over- 


144  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

night  schemes  seemed  so  feasible  in  broad  daylight,  and 
he  was  temporarily  at  a  loose  end.  Dagmar — he  called 
her  Dagmar  now,  since  she  had  signed  herself  thus, 
without  surname — Dagmar  was  in  New  York,  and  he 
might  meet  her  anywhere.  Or  again  he  might  not. 
Between  these  two  eventualities  there  was  the  slender 
thread  of  chance  to  guide  him  to  that  which  was  the 
goal  of  all  his  desires.  How  could  he  tell  which  way 
to  turn?  He  must  go  blindly  to  the  outcome,  what- 
ever it  should  be. 

Passing  the  Holland  House  he  saw  a  string  of  han- 
soms come  careering  down  the  avenue.  The  first  of 
these  slowed  up,  drew  in  toward  the  kerb,  its  driver 
hailing  him  with  the  habitual,  "Keb,  sir?" 

He  shook  his  head  indifferently,  and  sauntered  on, 
but  the  man  turned,  and  followed  him,  reiterating  his 
monotonous  inquiry  until  Quaintance  lost  patience 
with  him. 

"Devil  take  you!"  he  cried  irritably.  "Haven't  I 
told  you  I  don't  want  a  cab." 

"Do  you  not  wish  to  drive  in  poor  old  J.  J.'s  keb?" 
asked  a  hurt  voice,  and  he  jumped  round  to  stare  up 
at  the  figure  on  the  dicky.  It  wore  a  shabby  boxcloth 
coat  bedecked  with  huge  pearl  buttons,  and  a  silk  hat, 
somewhat  too  glossy  in  that  connection,  beneath  whose 
curly  brim  appeared  Cornoyer's  grinning  countenance. 
Quaintance  looked  back  and  saw  that  the  whole  string 
had  drawn  up  close  behind.  The  second  held  a  single 
passenger,  whose  ruddy,  weather-beaten  face,  adorned 
with  a  contented  smile,  a  huge  cigar,  stamped  him  the 
lawful  driver  of  the  first.  The  others  carried  baggage. 

"Jomp  in,"  Cornoyer  begged.  "Jomp  right  in, 
Newman,  and  I'll  drive  you  to  the  docks.  You  must 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  145 

come  with  me  to  the  steamer.  I  am  on  my  way  home 
to  Paris." 

Quaintance  could  not  but  laugh  at  the  idea  of  the 
procession,  and  an  erratic  impulse,  added  to  the  fact 
that  an  assiduous  policeman  was  eyeing  them  sus- 
piciously, caused  him  to  join  it. 

"But  no  tomfoolery,"  he  stipulated.  "Drive  straight 
old  man.  Don't  play  at»  funerals  unless  you  want  to 
miss  your  boat.  It's  nearly  ten  already." 

Cornoyer  cheerfully  adopted  his  advice,  and  proved 
himself  no  clumsy  whip  by  the  dexterity  with  which  he 
shaved  each  imminent  disaster  courted  by  the  pace  he 
set.  The  other  drivers  emulated  him  and  many  curious 
glances  were  directed  toward  the  strange  cortege  which 
went  whipping  down  the  avenue.  Cornoyer's  last  ap- 
pearance on  that  fashionable  thoroughfare  did  not  lack 
eclat. 

They  turned  round  by  the  Cornucopia  in  order  that 
the  traveler  might  leave  cards  there,  and  early  visi- 
tors to  that  quiet  club  flocked  to  the  windows  to  see 
him  start  again,  returning  his  grief-stricken  flourish  of 
farewell  with  interest.  Everyone  liked  Cornoyer,  and 
his  ridiculous  exit  was  just  what  might  have  been  ex- 
pected of  him,  but  Quaintance  felt  glad  when  they  once 
more  gained  Fifth  Avenue,  and  held  straight  on  for 
Washington  Square  and  Morton  street.  He  was  still 
more  relieved  when  they  reached  the  dock,  and  Cor- 
noyer, having  doffed  his  borrowed  overcoat  and  paid 
off  his  transport  so  liberally  that  they  accorded  him  a 
round  of  cheers,  permitted  himself  to  be  led  toward  the 
throng  alongside  the  steamer. 

"Gee  whiz!"  said  that  gentleman  suddenly,  "she 
seems  to  be  goin'  away." 


146  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

This  was  all  too  true,  for  there  was  already  a  widen- 
ing gulf  between  her  lofty  steel  side  and  the  pier.  The 
last  of  the  warps  had  been  let  go.  She  had  started  for 
Havre. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turned  to  Quaint- 
ance  with  an  air  of  inexhaustible  patience. 

"Chance  of  mine  I  didn't  send  my  baggage  down  be- 
fore me !"  said  he. 

But  Quaintance  paid  no  attention  to  him.  He  was 
staring  up  at  a  figure  which  had  crossed  the  deck  from 
the  cabin-companion  to  the  poop-rail.  It  was  Dag- 
mar.  She  was  gazing  forward,  her  face  turned  from 
him,  but  he  knew  instinctively  that  it  was  she.  And, 
ere  he  could  bring  himself  to  cry  out  to  her  before  all 
these  people,  she  had  moved  away,  out  of  sight. 

The  shock  of  such  sudden  misfortune  stunned  him. 
He  was  too  dazed  to  notice  a  face  in  the  crowd  on 
shore,  with  two  crafty  eyes  which  were  watching  him 
with  malevolent  mirth. 

"You're  too  late  this  time,  mon  ami,"  muttered  Jules 
Chevrel  to  himself,  "and — you've  lost  her  now,  for 
good.  She'll  step  right  into  our  net  on  the  other  side. 
And  I  hope  you'll  be  fool  enough  to  follow  her  in  time 
to  see  how  she'll  squirm!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

DOMINIC      SEAGER      MAKES      SEVERAL    STARTLING     DIS- 
COVERIES 

After  Dominic  Seager  had  paid  for  his  passage  to 
Paris  he  had  about  nine  hundred  dollars  left  of  the 
thousand  obtained  from  his  arbitrary  confederate  in 
the  scene  which  was  to  make  both  their  fortunes.  Hav- 
ing settled  his  Long  Beach  hotel  bill  and  entertained 
himself  lavishly  on  the  eve  of  departure,  there  were 
less  than  eight  hundred  to  take  on  board  ship  with  him. 
His  sporting  instincts  cost  him  some  three  hundred 
during  the  voyage,  so  that  when  he  at  length  reached 
Paris  from  Cherbourg,  he  could  not  count  even  five 
hundred  in  his  note-case. 

But  no  such  commercial  calculations  disturbed  his 
complacent  faith  in  the  future.  It  would  not  be  long 
before  he  could  sneer  at  such  petty  sums  altogether, 
and  then  he  might  find  means  to  mark  his  displeasure 
with  Arendsen's  vulgar  parsimony.  The  mere  idea 
that  he  had  been  limited,  and  at  a  juncture  so  all-im- 
portant, to  such  a  paltry  total  expenditure  galled  him 
whenever  he  thought  of  it,  but,  as  he  seldom  thought  of 
such  matters  while  his  pockets  were  still  sufficiently 
lined  for  the  day,  he  did  not  suffer  unduly  in  that  re- 
spect. 

All  he  had  to  do  now,  he  thought  to  himself,  lying 


148  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

back  in  a  rickety  fiacre  on  his  way  from  the  station  to 
that  hotel  which  he  had  elected  to  honor  with  his  pa- 
tronage, was  to  present  himself  at  the  address  given 
him  by  the  San  Francisco  lawyers,  to  wit,  the  Misses 
\Yinters'  select  pension,  in  the  Avenue  Morceau,  and 
there  announce  to  Miles  Quaintance's  adopted  daugh- 
ter that  he  had  come  thither  to  marry  her.  Soon  after 
that  there  would  be  millions  at  his  disposal,  not  fewer 
than  twelve  and  a  half  of  them  counting  in  francs,  and 
as  many  more  than  that  as  he  could  possibly  make  it. 

It  would  be  strange  if  he  could  not  come  to  such 
terms  with  the  girl  as  should  leave  him  his  freedom 
and  the  lion's  share  of  the  spoil.  Then  he  would  either 
promptly  divorce  her,  or  disappear,  as  she  should  pre- 
fer. The  latter  would  probably  be  the  more  simple 
method,  since  he  could  in  that  way  resume  his  former 
identity  and  so  effectually  cover  his  fraudulent  tracks. 

It  also  remained  to  be  seen  whether,  once  he  had 
the  money  safe  in  hand,  he  could  not  tax  to  good  pur- 
pose Arendsen's  most  preposterous  claim.  The  ransom 
he  had  been  forced  to  promise  that  robber  was  alto- 
gether out  of  the  question.  Any  manoeuvre  of  that 
sort  would,  of  course,  take  very  delicate  management, 
but  a  millionaire  might  accomplish  much  that  would 
be  impossible  to  a  poor  man.  His  estimate  of  prospec- 
tive profits  on  the  present  venture  had  risen  to  twenty- 
five  millions  of  francs  when  he  reached  the  Cours-la- 
Reine  and  got  out  before  the  Hotel  du  Palais. 

He  had  decided  to  put  up  there  for  the  twofold 
reason  that  it  was  a  conventionally  correct  establish- 
ment and  at  the  same  time  conveniently  situated  be- 
tween the  Avenue  Marceau  and  his  own  old  haunts  in 
the  Ville-Lumiere.  While  he  registered  he  gave  the 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  149 

uninterested  vestibule  to  understand  that  he  was  some- 
one of  importance. 

When  he  arrived  it  was  his  firm  intention  to  carry 
out  his  mission  on  the  instant.  But,  by  the  time  he  had 
changed  his  clothes  and  otherwise  refreshed  himself, 
dusk  had  come  down.  And  he  remembered  that  the 
lights  in  the  Rue  Royale  had  already  begun  to  twinkle 
invitingly  as  he  had  passed  the  Madeleine.  It  was 
long  since  he  had  set  foot  in  the  city  of  pleasure,  and 
he  had  lived  roughly,  at  hazard,  since  then.  It  would 
make  no  appreciable  difference  if  he  allowed  himself 
twenty-four  hours'  liberty  first.  There  would  still  be 
time  and  to  spare  for  all  practical  purposes. 

He  turned  west  instead  of  east  as  he  left  the  hotel, 
in  correct  evening  dress,  with  his  opera-hat  at  the  most 
rakish  of  angles,  and  dined  at  the  Ritz,  in  the  Place 
Vendome,  where  he  treated  himself  royally,  without 
regard  to  expense,  feeling  that  he  was  in  his  true  ele- 
ment in  its  atmosphere  of  luxury  and  extravagance. 
Thence  a  leisurely  stroll,  with  a  good  cigar  in  his  lips, 
took  him  to  the  Rue  Montpensier,  where,  at  the  Palais- 
Royal,  he  sat  and  laughed  for  an  hour  or  two  over  a 
French  farce  of  the  broadest. 

A  hearty  supper  at  Maxim's  induced  added  cheerful- 
ness, and,  having  learned  from  a  benevolent  bystander 
at  the  bar  there  that  a  whilom  resort  of  his  was  still 
doing  business  at  the  old  stand,  he  resolved  to  pay  it  a 
surprise  visit  before  returning  to  his  hotel.  He  con- 
sidered that  it  would  be  most  unwise  to  throw  away 
any  chance  of  increasing  his  scanty  capital,  and,  while 
he  was  in  the  vein,  would  just  speculate  a  few  francs 
at  the  tables  on  a  safe  and  certain  system  he  had 
evolved  since  his  last  disaster  in  that  direction. 


150  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

He  called  a  cab  and  went  clattering  back  to  the  nar- 
row Rue  des  Bons  Enfants,  where  it  did  not  take  him 
long  to  get  rid  of  what  cash  he  had  with  him.  Where- 
upon he  hurried  off  to  the  Cours-la-Reine  with  some 
muddled  idea  of  returning  with  what  he  had  left  there 
and  breaking  the  bank  after  all,  but,  at  sight  of  his 
bed,  a  providential  drowsiness  overcame  him,  and  he 
lay  down. 

It  was  nearly  noon  next  day  before  he  awoke,  still 
in  crumpled  evening  clothes,  haggard,  heavy-eyed,  and 
suffering  from  an  unclean  taste  in  his  mouth.  He 
blamed  this  to  the  last  brandy-and-soda  of  which  he 
had  partaken,  at  the  croupier's  invitation,  in  the  Street 
of  the  Good  Children. 

He  once  more  counted  his  assets,  uneasily  now,  and 
found  them  sadly  shrunk.  And  when,  after  a  cold  bath 
and  light  breakfast,  he  at  length  started  for  the  Misses 
Winters'  select  pension,  it  was  under  the  strong  convic- 
tion that  he  had  somehow  been  made  a  fool  of  by 
someone,  and  that  he  must  forthwith  exact  satisfaction 
somewhere  for  such  affront.  He  rang  with  vicious  em- 
phasis the  door-bell  of  the  prim  dwelling  in  the  Avenue 
Marceau,  and  was  unnecessarily  abrupt  with  the  maid 
who  answered  it. 

He  was  left  to  kick  his  heels  in  a  stiffly  furnished 
drawing-room  for  fully  ten  minutes  while  the  Misses 
Winters  arrayed  themselves  to  receive  their  visitor. 
His  tone  to  them  when  they  did  appear  was  the  re- 
verse of  conciliatory.  It  made  the  two  elderly  maidens 
nervous. 

"I  told  that  stupid  girl  that  I  came  here  to  see  Miss 
Quaintance,"  he  said  in  a  brusque,  quarrelsome  tone, 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  151 

and  Miss  Sophia  looked  somewhat  blankly  at  her  sister 
Jane.  It  was  Miss  Jane  who  replied. 

"Miss  Quaintance  is  no  longer  with  us,  Mr.  Quaint- 
ance." 

Seager  stared  at  her,  and  his  astonishment  was  so 
evident  that  Sophia  felt  called  upon  to  supplement  the 
assertion. 

"What  my  sister  Jane  says  is  quite  correct.  Miss 
Quaintance  is  no  longer  with  us,"  she  echoed,  looking 
not  unlike  a  grey  parrot  with  her  aquiline  English 
features  and  a  peaked  cap  for  crest. 

"The  deuce  she  isn't!"  gasped  Seager,  aghast  at  the 
grave  possibilities  opening  up. 

"Then  where  is  she?" 

Miss  Jane  laid  a  tremulous  hand  on  Sophia.  She 
was  not  accustomed  to  being  addressed  as  though  she 
were  a  delinquent  servant,  but,  nevertheless,  she  an- 
swered him,  in  a  voice  meant  to  convey  that  fact  to  his 
understanding. 

"You  have  surely  heard,  Mr.  Quaintance,"  she  said, 
"that  Miss  Quaintance  returned  to  the  United  States 
of  America  immediately  she  heard  the  sad  news  of  Mr. 
Miles  Ouaintance's  death." 

"You  have  surely  heard  that,  Mr.  Quaintance," 
echoed  Miss  Sophia  as  chorus,  but  Seager  was  frown- 
ing so  fiercely  now  that  the  words  were  no  more  than 
a  whisper. 

"The  devil  she  did !"  he  exclaimed,  and  the  two  spin- 
sters shrank  from  him  of  common  impulse.  They 
neither  could  nor  would  tolerate  such  freedom  of 
speech  in  their  presence.  They  rose  together,  and 
bowed  together,  and  would  have  withdrawn  at  once 


152  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

had  not  he  divined  their  reason  for  that  step  and  pre- 
vented it  by  means  of  a  hasty  apology. 

"One  moment,  one  moment,  ladies/'  he  begged, 
more  suavely,  "and  pardon  my  seeming  discourtesy. 
You'll  understand  how  I  feel  when  I  tell  you  that  I've 
just  arrived  from  the  States  in  the  full  expectation  of 
finding  Miss  Quaintance  here.  Your  information 
comes  as  a  great  blow  to  me.  Are  you  quite  sure  that 
what  you  say  is  correct?" 

Miss  Jane  looked  puzzled,  and  Miss  Sophia  adopted 
the  same  expression. 

"Miss  Quaintance  left  us  nearly  a  year  ago,"  said  the 
former  frigidly.  "We  wrote  her  lawyers  in  San  Fran- 
cisco that  she  intended  to  go  there.  We  had  a  letter 
from  her  afterwards  to  say  she  had  reached  New  York. 
That  is  all  we  know,  Mr.  Quaintance." 

"That  is  all  we  know,"  Miss  Sophia  affirmed. 

"But — but,"  Seager  stammered,  "but  it  was  those 
same  San  Francisco  lawyers  who  sent  me  to  you.  They 
had  no  word  of  her  having  left  you.  There  must  have 
been  some  mistake." 

"There  may  be,"  Miss  Jane  admitted  with  quiet  dig- 
nity, "but  we  are  not  accountable  for  it." 

"Under  no  circumstances,"  said  Miss  Sophia  firmly, 
"are  we  accountable." 

Her  vain  repetition  annoyed  Seager  dispropor- 
tionately. 

"That  remains  to  be  seen,"  he  declared,  glaring  at 
her  vindictively.  "She  was  little  more  than  a  school- 
girl when  you  let  her  undertake  such  a  journey  alone, 
and " 

"She  was  accompanied  by  her  maid,  a  most  trust- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  153 

worthy  person,"  asserted  Miss  Jane,  undaunted  by  his 
veiled  threat. 

"And  now,  Mr.  Quaintance,  since  we  have  afforded 
you  such  information  as  we  possess,  you  will  perhaps 
kindly  excuse  us." 

She  swept  towards  the  door,  her  cap  atremble  with 
indignation,  and  her  sister  followed  without  further 
speech.  It  was  only  thus  that  they  could  express  their 
strong  disapproval  of  this  very  vulgar  person,  and, 
since  there  was  seemingly  no  more  to  be  learned  from 
them,  he  did  not  wait  for  a  servant  to  show  him  down- 
stairs, but  followed  them  himself.  A  photograph 
caught  his  eye  as  he  passed  the  piano,  and  his  quick 
exclamation  at  sight  of  it  caused  Miss  Jane  to  face 
about  on  the  threshold  with  inconvenient  results  to 
Sophia,  hard  at  her  heels. 

"Who's  this?"  Seager  asked,  picking  up  the  por- 
trait while  Miss  Sophia  was  backing  off  the  train  of  her 
sister's  skirt.  She  looked  around,  still  more  at  sea. 

"Why,  that's  Miss  Quaintance,"  she  answered  invol- 
untarily, on  her  own  unaided  responsibility. 

"Phew!"  whistled  Seager,  and  the  corners  of  his 
eyes  wrinkled  in  a  smile  of  delighted  amazement.  Curi- 
osity as  to  its  cause  induced  the  sisters  to  linger,  irreso- 
lutely. 

"Then  I  can  tell  you  where  Miss  Quaintance  is.  She's 
in  New  York.  I  saw  her  there  not  forty-eight  hours 
before  I  started  for  this  side,  and — I  didn't  know  who 
she  was.  Gad!  Isn't  that  a  fierce  thing  to  have  hap- 
pen one? 

"I've  never  seen  either  her  or  my  uncle,  you  see,'* 
he  went  on,  in  response  to  their  looks  of  bewilderment. 
"I've  spent  most  of  my  time  abroad  for  many  years 


154  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

past,  and  only  heard  of  my  uncle's  death  while  I  was 
in  Africa.  I  didn't  even  know  then  that  he  had  adop— 
that  he  had  a  daughter.  But  I  hurried  home,  and,  as 
soon  as  I  reached  New  York,  I  wrote  his  lawyers  in 
San  Francisco  to  let  me  have  her  address. 

"They  sent  me  here.  I  must  see  her  at  once,  in  con- 
nection with  his  estate,  in  which  she,  of  course,  has  a 
large  interest,  but  on  conditions  which  only  I  can 
make  clear  to  her. 

"You  can  understand,  therefore,  how  it  affected  me 
to  hear  that  she  had  left  you.  All  the  trouble  I've  taken 

on  her  behalf  thrown  away,  and Will  you  do  me 

the  very  great  favor  to  let  me  have  this  photo?" 

Miss  Jane  did  not  seem  very  sure  that  she  should 
comply  with  such  a  request,  but  Miss  Sophia's  imagina- 
tion had  been  fired  by  the  hint  of  inheritance,  and  she 
thought  that,  if  it  would  help  the  girl,  of  whom  she 
had  been  very  fond  in  her  old-maidish  way,  to  any 
rights  in  that  direction,  they  need  not  scruple  to  part 
with  the  photograph. 

"There  is  your  copy  upstairs,  Jane,"  she  once  more 
took  the  initiative. 

"That  one  is  mine,  Mr.  Quaintance,"  she  said  to 
Seager,  "and  I  shall  be  pleased  to  let  you  have  it,  on 
Miss  Quaintance's  account." 

"You're  very  good,"  he  assured  her,  and  his  more 
pleasant  tone  did  not  fail  to  have  its  effect. 

"Miss  Quaintance  is  a  sweet  girl,"  she  added. 
"When  you  see  her,  will  you  please  give  her  our  love." 

"Gladly,"  responded  Seager,  bowing  with  great  out- 
ward deference,  and  held  the  door  for  them  while  they 
passed  from  the  room.  In  the  hall  he  expressed  more 
profuse  thanks  for  their  kindness  and  civility,  finally 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  155 

taking  himself  off  under  much  more  agreeable  auspices 
than  those  which  had  marked  the  earlier  stages  of  the 
interview. 

"Gentlemen  from  America  are  sometimes  so — so 
unusual,"  Miss  Sophia  commented  forgivingly  as  she 
closed  the  hall  door  behind  him.  "But  it  must  be  a 
very  rough  place  in  parts,  especially  in  the  canned-beef 
districts  where  all  those  dreadful  exposures  came  from. 
I  think  he  has  a  good  heart  under  his  harsh  exterior." 

"Humph !"  sniffed  Miss  Jane.  "He  may  have,  but  he 
certainly  conceals  it  effectually  at  times.  He  threat- 
ened us,  actually  threatened  us,  in  our  own  house!" 

"But  it  was  on  Miss  Quaintance's  account  that  he 
was  upset,"  her  sister  argued  plaintively.  She  had  not 
the  same  fund  of  common-sense  as  Miss  Jane,  and  was 
somewhat  handicapped  in  life  by  a  leaning  toward  the 
impractical  and  romantic. 

"I  hope  he  finds  her,"  she  concluded.  "There  seems 
to  have  been  some  confusion  as  to  her  movements. 
You  had  no  reply  from  those  people  in  San  Francisco 
when  you  wrote,  Jane?" 

"No,  I  had  no  reply,"  said  Miss  Jane,  and  returned 
to  her  household  tasks.  The  permanent  guests  with 
whom  the  select  pension  was  well  filled  left  her  little 
time  for  outside  interests. 

Seager  turned  down  the  avenue  again,  his  mind  in  a 
state  bordering  on  distraction.  The  photograph,  at 
which  he  took  two  or  three  surreptitious  peeps  as  he 
hurried  toward  his  hotel,  was  that  of  the  identical  girl 
he  had  encountered,  with  her  motor  car  broken  down, 
on  the  road  into  Long  Island  City,  some  eight  or  nine 
clays  before.  It  was  that  enchanting  creature  whom 
he  must  marry!  And  he  had  not  had  sense  enough 


156  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

even  to  ask  her  name  at  the  time !  What  devastating 
results  might  not  that  oversight  yet  produce? 

He  calculated  that  there  were  less  than  three  weeks 
left  in  which  to  comply  with  the  stipulations  contained 
in  Miles  Quaintance's  last  will  and  testament,  failing 
whose  fulfilment  he  would  be  in  a  most  unenviable 
plight,  one  alive  with  the  gravest  risks  to  himself. 
Black  Dirck  had  a  long  reach,  and  he  himself  might 
not  succeed  in  escaping  that  dangerous  devil  a  second 
time.  He  would  be  a  pauper  instead  of  a  millionaire. 
He  would  win  no  wife,  and — the  thought  of  the  girl  he 
had  seen  was  a  goad  unendurable.  He  must  hasten 
back  to  New  York  at  once,  and  take  up  the  chase  again 
there. 

What  he  wanted  to  know  at  the  moment  was  how 
much  money  he  could  command  to  that  end.  He  had  a 
hundred  francs  in  his  pocket  and  some  small  change. 
When  he  reached  his  room  and  had  gathered  together 
his  entire  resources,  there  were  not  quite  three  hun- 
dred francs  all  told.  Sixty  dollars  to  pay  his  hotel  bill 
and  traveling  expenses!  The  thing  was  absurd  and 
impossible.  He  must  have  more  money,  and  that  in- 
stantly. It  was  Arendsen's  fault  that  he  found  himself 
stranded  at  a  crisis  so  unforeseen.  Had  that  niggardly 
speculator  put  up  the  two  thousand  dollars  required  of 
him,  his  unfortunate  partner  in  the  deal  need  not  have 
been  left  in  any  such  hole.  He  must  cable  immedi- 
ately. 

He  did  so,  stating  that  his  quarry  had  left  Paris,  ask- 
ing for  a  prompt  remittance  by  wire  in  order  that  he 
might  follow  her.  And  Arendsen  had  a  note  of  the 
date  on  which  their  venture  must  perforce  lapse  should 
the  terms  of  the  will  not  then  be  fulfilled. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 


"That  ought  to  fetch  him,  I  think,"  he  reflected 
angrily,  re-reading  what  he  had  written,  and  bade  the 
boy  who  answered  his  bell  bring  a  brandy-and-soda  as 
soon  as  he  should  have  despatched  the  message. 

"Gad!"  he  said  to  himself  after  he  had  swallowed 
that  beverage  and  lit  one  of  the  expensive  cigars  with 
which  he  had  thoughtfully  filled  his  case  over  night  at 
the  Ritz,  "What  a  note  1  If  I  had  only  known  who  she 
was  I'd  have  got  my  kiss  after  all.  Think  of  all  that 
poor  devil  has  missed!  Think  of  all  that's  coming  to 
me  !  Dominic,  my  boy,  you're  going  to  get  your  de- 
serts at  last.  After  all  these  ups  and  downs  you'll  take 
the  top  notch  you're  entitled  to.  I'll  be  off  the  mo- 
ment Arendsen  sends  me  the  price  of  my  ticket. 

"Let's  see.  It's  two  o'clock  now.  If  he  wires  at 
once  I'll  be  able  to  touch  the  bank  before  closing  time 
to-day.  If  not,  I'll  have  to  wait  till  to-morrow.  That'll 
leave  me  a  short  enough  few  days  after  I  land  again  to 
fix  things  up  in,  but  I'm  a  lightning  artist  when  I  see 
a  chance  of  drawing  free-hand  cheques  for  the  rest  of 
my  life.  And  furthermore  I'd  move  heaven  and  earth 
for  a  girl  like  that,  quite  apart  from  the  money  I'll  get 
with  her." 

His  most  immediate  move,  however,  was  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  buffet,  where  he  swallowed  a  second  brandy- 
and-soda  to  soothe  his  overwrought  nervous  system. 
By  four  o'clock  he  had  two  more  to  settle  for,  and  no 
cable  had  yet  come.  He  cursed  Arendsen  bitterly,  and 
then  made  excuse  for  him.  Black  Dirck  might  have 
been  out  of  town.  Two  hours  was  a  short  enough  time 
in  which  to  expect  a  reply.  There  were  half  a  dozen 
possible  reasons  for  the  delay.  He  would  have  his  re- 
mittance in  good  time  for  to-morrow  morning,  and  as 


158  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

to  the  present,  he  might  just  as  well  put  in  his  time 
pleasantly  as  hang  about  there  counting  the  minutes  in 
the  company  of  a  lot  of  snobs  who  took  no  interest  in 
his  conversation. 

He  called  a  cab,  crossed  the  Invalides  bridge,  and 
sought  inexpensive  distraction  in  Montparnasse,  with 
the  remains  of  his  working  capital  in  his  pockets. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHY  A  MILLIONAIRE  SHOOK  THE  HOTEL  DU  PALAIS 

"So  that's  his  game  is  it!''  snapped  Dirck  Arendsen, 
flinging  down  with  contemptuous  gesture  the  cable 
message  which  he  had  found  on  his  desk  when  he  en- 
tered the  dingy  Duane  street  office  at  half-past  nine 
one  comfortless,  drizzling  morning. 

"The  girl's  left  Paris,  and  he  must  have  more  money. 
'At  once,  too !" 

He  threw  off  his  wet  overcoat,  sat  down,  and  was 
silent  for  some  time,  his  face  growing  ever  blacker. 

"What  a  fool  he  is!  What  a  chance  he's  throwing 
away  through  his  cursed  folly!  And  my  chance,  too, 
just  as  much  as  his. 

"I  thought — but,  no  matter.  Paris  has  been  too 
much  for  him.  And  now  he  imagines  he's  got  me 
roped  fast  to  grub-stake  him  to  a  finish!" 

His  beard  and  moustache  were  bristling  with  rage. 
His  eyes  blazed. 

"I'll  stake  him !  I'll  stake  him  so  that  he  won't  move 
hand  or  foot  when  I've  done  with  him. 

"WulHWulf!  Are  you  there,  Wulf?  Run  round  to 
Rischoff's  and  tell  them  to  send  me  a  ticket  for  Paris. 
Yes,  Paris,  first-class,  lowest  rate,  by  the  very  first  boat. 
Find  out  when  I  must  be  on  board." 

Twenty-four  hours  later  he  set  out  on  Seager's  track, 
and  for  six  long  days  at  sea  did  his  wrath  ferment. 

159 


i6o  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

Bottled  up,  it  acquired  a  still  more  dangerous  head. 
He  counted  the  hours  while  they  slipped  away  in  an 
enforced  idleness,  and  ground  his  teeth  every  time  he 
heard  a  clock  tick.  He  knew  to  a  minute  when  the 
period  of  grace  allowed  by  Miles  Quaintance's  will 
would  expire. 

He  was  in  no  pleasant  humor,  therefore,  when  he 
reached  the  Hotel  du  Palais,  and  it  was  perhaps  just 
as  well  for  himself  and  Dominic  Seager  that  the  latter 
was  not  at  hand  when  the  irate  traveler  arrived. 

Arendsen  left  his  cab  at  the  kerb  and  asked  snap- 
pishly at  the  bureau  for  the  number  of  his  confed- 
erate's room,  with  the  intention  of  taking  him  un- 
awares there,  and  then  swore  at  the  clerk  on  the 
score  of  his  slowness  in  furnishing  the  information  re- 
quired. It  did  not  soothe  him  to  learn  that  Seager 
had  recently  been  evicted  from  the  hotel,  and  still  owed 
a  lengthy  score  there. 

"If  Monsieur  will  be  so  good  as  to  settle  that,"  sug- 
gested the  clerk,  turning  the  other's  angry  eagerness 
to  his  own  employers'  advantage,  "I  shall  be  happy  to 
tell  him  how  he  may  perhaps  find  his  friend." 

"And  if  not?"  asked  Arendsen,  struck  by  the  impu- 
dence of  the  proposal. 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  indifferently. 

"If  not,"  he  returned,  "it  may  be  concluded  that  the 
gentleman  is  no  friend  of  Monsieur's." 

Situated  as  he  was,  Arendsen  had  no  option  but  to 
accept  his  offer. 

"Make  out  the  receipt,"  he  growled.  "I'll  pay.  And 
where  shall  I  seek  the  debtor?" 

The  clerk  took  good  care  to  have  the  transaction 
completed  to  his  own  liking  ere  parting  with  news  of 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  161 

such  consequence,  and,  having  first  counted  carefully 
the  notes  handed  him,  locked  them  away. 

"Monsieur's  friend  has  come  here  once  or  twice  since 
he  left,  to  inquire  for  a  cablegram  he  expects,"  he  said 
quietly.  "It  seems  that,  when  it  arrives,  he  will  settle 
his  bill  and  then  sue  the  Hotel  du  Palais  for  damages 
on  the  ground  of  wrongous  ejectment.  He  will  doubt- 
less, therefore,  return,  and,  if  Monsieur  cares  to  await 
him " 

"But  I  may  have  to  wait  for  days,"  Arendsen  ob- 
jected, his  heart  full  of  bitterness  as  he  remembered 
how  few  of  these  there  were  left  before  all  those  mil- 
lions shall  fall  into  the  clutches  of  charity. 

The  clerk  once  more  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  know  of  no  better  way,"  he  remarked. 

Arendsen  could  cheerfully  have  strangled  him  at  that 
moment,  but  there  were  too  many  witnesses  on  the 
spot,  and  he  had  to  adopt  a  more  peaceful  policy. 

"You  may  give  me  a  room,  if  you  have  one  avail- 
able," he  said  abruptly,  conscious  that  he  had  been  out- 
witted at  all  points  by  the  astute  Parisian,  "and  if  this 
— this  person  should  turn  up,  you'll  find  means  to  de- 
tain him  until  you  can  get  word  to  me." 

"Gladly,  Monsieur.    That  will  not  be  difficult." 

"Don't  tell  him  I'm  here,  remember.  Say  that  there 
is  some  word  for  him,  and  send  for  me  instantly." 

"Monsieur's  orders  will  be  observed.  Number  fifty- 
six.  Jean-Marie !  Conduct  Monsieur  to  number  fifty- 
six.  Felix!  Monsieur's  baggage  to  the  ascenseur." 

When  Arendsen  got  to  his  room  he  was  almost  on 
the  point  of  explosion.  He  had  never  doubted  that  he 
would  find  Seager  anxiously  waiting  him,  but,  instead, 
he  found  him  lacking  all  object  on  which  to  expend  his 


1 62  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

concentrated  rage  and  resentment  It  would  be  doubly 
hard  now  to  sit  there  wasting  precious  time  and  its 
irredeemable  opportunities. 

But  there  was  no  other  course  to  be  thought  of.  It 
would  be  idle  to  seek  that  prodigal  throughout  the  city. 
He  must  stick  to  his  position  with  all  the  patience  he 
might,  and  trust  that  the  wanderer  would  return  be- 
fore  it  should  be  too  late. 

"I'll  see  this  thing  through  to  the  bitter  end,"  said 
Arendsen  savagely,  and,  having  donned  the  new  suit 
he  had  bought  before  leaving  New  York,  and  had  his 
hair  and  beard  trimmed  to  a  less  piratical  aspect,  estab- 
lished himself  in  an  inconspicuous  corner  of  the  vesti- 
bule with  a  cigar  and  a  bundle  of  comic  papers,  out- 
wardly at  his  ease  but  inwardly  smouldering  like  a  vol- 
cano. 

That  day  passed  uneventfully,  its  monotony  only 
varied  by  meals  for  which  he  had  no  appetite,  and, 
when  he  went  upstairs  again  at  a  late  hour,  his  sullen 
rage  was  still  mounting  steadily.  Twelve  more  hours 
had  gone  by,  and  by  so  much  had  his  chances  of  a  great 
fortune  diminished.  The  thought  of  that  had  become 
an  obsession  with  him. 

On  the  following  morning  he  rose  unrefreshed,  after 
a  sleepless  night,  and  took  up  his  station  immediately 
he  had  breakfasted;  a  needless  precaution  at  that  hour 
since  he  was  quite  well  aware  that  Seager's  nocturnal 
habits  were  not  such  as  might  conduce  to  early  rising. 
He  meant  to  run  no  risk  of  missing  his  man,  however, 
and  stayed  there,  a  statue  of  vengeance,  all  that  day  and 
the  next  and  the  next  again,  always  at  the  same  spot, 
impervious  to  the  curious  glances  bestowed  on  him. 

It  would  have  suited  his  mood  much  better  to  take 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  163 

some  more  active  measures,  to  scour  the  kennels  from 
gate  to  gate  in  search  of  the  errant  Seager.  But,  evem 
as  he  had  once  told  that  bungler  of  his  own  and  other, 
men's  chances  in  life,  he  could  be  very  patient.  It  was 
by  virtue  of  such  a  quality,  as  well  as  others  less  ad- 
mirable, that  he  had  risen,  or  fallen  if  you  prefer  it, 
from  the  status  of  an  underpaid  master  in  the  mercan- 
tile marine  to  that  of  a  more  or  less  wealthy  dealer  in 
what  he  called  hardware,  while  others  would  have  de- 
scribed his  occupation  as  that  of  an  illicit  trader  in 
weapons  and  ammunitions  of  war. 

It  takes  a  man  of  cold  courage  and  nerve  to  follow 
any  such  dangerous  calling  successfully,  and  he  had  not 
altogether  failed  in  it.  Few  people  had  found  it  pleas- 
ant to  stand  in  his  light,  and  one  at  least  who  had  done 
so  had  finished  up  in  the  North  River,  not  very  far  from 
Duane  street,  with  a  hole  through  his  head  which  had 
greatly  puzzled  the  police  who  picked  up  the  body.  In 
short,  Dirck  Arendscn  was  an  absolutely  unscrupulous 
scoundrel,  and  it  would  surely  go  ill  with  Seager  when 
he  should  come  within  reach  of  his  pursuer.  On  the 
fifth  afternoon  of  that  fuming  watcher's  seemingly  end- 
less ambush,  Seager  walked  carelessly  into  the  vesti- 
bule of  the  Hotel  du  Palais. 

He  did  not  see  Arendsen,  and  Arendsen  did  not 
spring  from  his  seat  at  the  sight  of  him.  The  big, 
black-bearded  man  stayed  still  where  he  was,  watching 
his  unconscious  accomplice  swagger  up  to  the  bureau, 
smiling  sardonically  as  he  saw  the  clerk  point  toward 
him  in  mute  reply  to  Seager' s  assertive  inquiry.  But 
if  he  had  hoped  that  the  other  would  show  any  sign 
of  dismay  over  his  presence  there,  he  was  doomed  to 
quick  disappointment,  for  Seager  gave  him  back  a' 


164  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

look  as  black  as  his  own  when  their  eyes  met,  and  bore 
down  on  him  like  a  thunder-cloud. 

That  sufferer  from  a  supposed  friend's  distrust  had 
thought  the  situation  out  to  a  nicety,  and  the  conclu- 
sion to  which  he  had  come  since  Arendsen  had  not  re- 
plied to  his  urgent  message  was  now  proved  correct. 
It  was  in  the  expectation  of  seeing  Black  Dirck  in 
Paris  that  he  had  eked  out  a  wretched  existence  of 
kte,  rather  than  take  any  desperate  steps  toward  a 
return  to  New  York.  He  felt  hot  against  the  other  for 
having  left  him  in  such  sorry  plight,  and  his  opening 
speech  quite  took  the  wind  out  of  Arendsen's  sails. 

"Curse  you !"  he  began  in  a  low,  tense  tone  as  he 
threw  himself  into  a  chair  alongside  his  treacherous 
ally,  while  the  clerk  looked  on  half  relieved  and  half 
disappointed  that  there  had  been  no  such  disturbance 
as  promised. 

"Curse  you,  Arendsen !  Why  didn't  you  reply  to  my 
wire?  You've  let  me  rot  in  a  nice  hole  here,  and  the 
girl's  in  New  York.  There's  only  a  week  of  the  year 
left  now,  and  we  may  be  too  late  after  all,  owing  to 
your  infernal  folly.  What  was  the  use  of  slinking  over 
here  after  me?  I  gave  you  the  straight  tip,  but  you're 
such  a  crook  that  you  couldn't  take  it  for  that,  I  sup- 
pose. You're  robbing  me,  that's  what  you're  doing,  and 
cutting  off  your  nose  to  spite  your  damned  ugly  face." 

Arendsen  eyed  him  evilly,  but  heard  him  out  in 
silence,  too  much  taken  aback  by  his  unfeigned 
belief  that  the  grievance  was  all  on  his  side  to  break  in. 

"What  have  you  done  with  all  the  money  I  gave 
you?"  he  hissed  through  set  teeth  as  the  other  con- 
cluded, but  Seager  glared  all  the  more  fiercely  at  him 
and  renewed  his  complaint. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  165 

"Curse  you  and  the  money  you  gave  me !  Can't  you 
get  it  into  your  thick  skull  that  it's  millions  we're  after. 
Is  this  any  time  to  haggle  about  a  handful  of  small 
change !  I  tell  you,  Arendsen,  if  we  fall  down  now  I'll 
hold  you  responsible.  I  let  you  in  on  the  ground  floor, 
and  first  thing  I  know  you  go  back  on  me,  at  the  most 
critical  moment.  Why  didn't  you  cable  me  the  price  of 
a  passage?  Would  that  have  cost  you  a  cent  more 
than  coming  across?  What  good  have  you  done  by 
coming?  Answer  me  that,  if  you  can." 

He  was  so  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  correctness 
of  his  own  viewpoint  that  Arendsen  was  somewhat 
staggered.  It  was  impossible  to  controvert  his  argu- 
ments to  the  effect  that  distrust  of  his  honesty  and  mo- 
tives had  cost  them  days  irredeemable.  And  Seager's 
obvious  belief  in  his  own  blamelessness  had  also  dis- 
concerted him.  A  thousand  dollars  was  certainly  a 
small  sum  in  comparison  with  the  prize  they  aspired  to. 
It  was  no  time  for  profitless  dispute.  Arendsen  recog- 
nized that  fact  and  acted  on  it,  sinking  all  his  own  pent 
up  animosity  in  favor  of  a  final  effort  toward  success. 

"Tell  me  what  you  found  out  about  the  girl,"  he  or- 
dered briefly. 

"Buy  me  a  brandy-and-soda  first,"  Seager  snapped. 
"I've  been  living  on  husks  since  my  money  went, 
and  that  was  a  good  many  days  ago — though  I  don't 
suppose  you  care  about  that.  You  must  give  me  a 
square  deal  from  now  onwards,  Arendsen,  and 
don't  you  forget,  my  friend,  that  I'm  king-pin  in  this 
game.  You  needn't  suppose  that  you  can  treat  me  like 
a  dog  because  you've  got  a  few  dollars." 

Arendsen  patiently  complied  with  his  requirement, 
and  Seager,  having  first  drunk  off  the  liquor,  'told  him 


1 66  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

in  few  words  what  he  had  been  able  to  learn  from  the 
two  old  maids  in  the  Avenue  Marceau. 

"And  now  comes  the  sore  point,"  he  said  indignantly, 
"the  point  where  you  ought  to  have  backed  me  up  to 
your  last  penny.  The  girl's  in  New  York,  as  I  told 
you,  whatever  she's  doing  there.  And  I  met  her,  with- 
out knowing  who  she  was,  the  night  before  I  called  on 
you  in  Duane  street." 

Arendsen  stared  at  him  half  incredulously. 

"No,  I'm  not  making  any  mistake.  I  know  what  I'm 
talking  about.  I  spent  half  an  hour  in  her  company — 
and  she'll  know  me  again,  too,  I  think. 

"I  met  her  on  my  way  in  to  Manhattan  from  Long 
Beach.  I  went  to  stop  when  I  landed  from  Africa 
in  case  you  should  run  across  me  before  I  had  made 
up  my  mind " 

"While  you  were  trying  the  San  Francisco  lawyers 
for  money,  so  that  you  might  leave  me  out,"  Arendsen 
corrected  him,  but  he  took  no  notice. 

"She  was  alone  in  a  runabout  which  had  broken 
down,  late  at  night  too,  and  I  helped  her  to  start  it 
again.  I'd  swear  to  her  anywhere,  and  one  of  those 
Winters  women  gave  me  her  photograph.  Look  at 
her.  Don't  you  think  I'd  remember  a  face  like  that? 
I  tell  you,  Arendsen,  I'll  owe  you  the  grudge  of  my  life 
if  I  miss  this  marriage  and  all  it  means,  through  you. 
And  I'll  make  a  point  of  paying  it  too." 

"I'll  see  that  you  pay  what  you  owe  me,"  said  Arend- 
sen with  returning  ill  humor.  He  had  grown  gradu- 
ally calmer  as  Seager  became  excited,  but  the  other's 
insistence  on  that  particular  point  was  beginning  to 
stir  his  temper  again.  He  glanced  contemptuously  at 
the  photograph  offere'd  for  his  inspection.  Then  he 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  167 

started  forward  in  his  arm-chair  with  a  quick  exclama- 
tion: 

"Will  you  swear  that  this  is  the  girl?"  he  demanded 
eagerly. 

"I've  told  you  already  I'll  swear  to  her  anywhere. 
There  aren't  so  many  of  that  brand  about  that  I'd  ever 
make  a  mistake  as  to  her.  That's  the  girl  I  met  in  the 
motor,  Miles  Quaintance's  adopted  daughter,  and  my 
future  wife.  And  she's  worth  ten  millions  to  us  when 
we  find  her." 

Arendsen's  anger  had  all  evaporated.  He  sat  back 
and  slapped  his  knee,  chuckling  in  his  beard,  eyes  still 
fixed  on  the  photograph,  and,  when  he  at  length  caught 
Seager's  glance  of  incensed  astonishment,  that  seemed 
but  to  add  to  his  mirth. 

"What  the  devil's  the  matter  with  you?"  asked  that 
irate  conspirator  with  a  most  acid  inflection. 

"There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me,"  answered 
Wrendsen.  "Not  with  me,  anyway.  It's  you  that's  on 
the  wrong  scent,  Dominic,  my  boy,  and  what  I'm  here 
for  is  to  put  you  right." 

"Isn't  that  the  girl?"  Seager  questioned  explosively. 
"Are  you  going  to  tell  me  that  you  know  her  better, 
than  I  do?  You  may  as  well  save  your  breath." 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you,"  returned  his  companion  im- 
pressively, "that  I  know  better  than  you  where  she  is. 
She's  in  Paris.  She  came  across  from  New  York  in  the 
same  steamer  with  me." 

He  gazed  triumphantly  at  the  other,  and  Seager's 
countenance  slowly  assumed  a  similar  geniality  as  he 
grasped  gradually,  by  degrees,  the  import  of  that  as- 
tonishing statement. 

"She  came  over  in  the  same  steamer  with  you !"  he 


1 68  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

repeated  as  if  scarcely  able  to  credit  such  glad  intelli- 
gence. 

"And  she  traveled  in  the  same  train  from  Havre," 
continued  Arendsen.  "I  saw  her  get  out  at  the  Gare 
St.  Lazare.  Tell  me  now  whether  I'd  have  done  bet- 
ter to  stay  in  New  York." 

"But  you  didn't  know,"  Seager  argued.  "It  was 
pure  chance.  A  most  marvellous  piece  of  luck !" 

He  said  no  more  for  a  moment,  revolving  it  in  his 
mind. 

"Did  you  find  out  her  destination?  Was  she  alone?" 
he  demanded  at  length,  and  Arendsen  shook  his  head, 
less  elated. 

"I  spent  my  time  in  the  smoking  room,"  he  replied. 
"She  was  traveling  as  Miss  Lorraine,  according  to  the 
passenger  list,  and  had  a  maid  with  her.  That's  all  I 
can  tell  you." 

"Well,  we  must  find  her  at  once,  wherever  she  is," 
Seager  cried,  and  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Come  on. 
There's  no  use  of  throwing  away  our  time  here.  Paris 
is  a  big  place,  and  we  can't  afford  to  make  any  more 
mistakes  now." 

"Sit  down,"  cried  Arendsen  sharply.  "We  must  go 
to  work  with  some  method  if  we  want  any  result.  How 
are  we  going  to  set  about  it  ?  You  know  this  town  bet- 
ter than  I  do,  but  I  think " 

"I  must  have  some  money  to  start  with,"  Seager 
broke  in.  "I  owe  a  bill  here,  and  they've  got  my  bag- 
gage all  stowed  away  in  one  of  their  cellars.  It  was  a 
dirty  trick,  Arendsen,  to  leave  me  rotting  here  with- 
out a  word." 

"I  was  a  good  deal  upset  by  your  message,"  said 
Arendsen  smoothly,  "or  I'd  have  wired  you  that  I 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  169 

was  coming.  I've  paid  your  bill — so  you  see  that  I  al- 
ways meant  well  by  you — and  here's  fifty  francs  to  go 
on  with." 

Seager  glared  at  him. 

"Cut  that  out,"  he  commanded.  "I'm  not  a  school- 
boy asking  for  pocket-money.  I'll  take  a  thousand  to 
start  with,  and  let  you  know  when  I  need  more. 

"Gar9on!  Cognac  and  English  soda.  Hurry,  we 
'don't  want  to  sit  here  all  day. 

"Tell  you  what  we'll  do  first,  Arendsen.  We'll  call 
at  that  boarding  house  where  she  stayed  when  she  was 
here  before.  Bet  you  they'll  know  where  we  can  find 
her.  But  before  that  we'll  change  our  hotel.  And  I'll 
just  take  this  opportunity  of  telling  that  pie-faced  pup 
in  the  office  what  I  think  of  him.  Or  no,  I'll  get  hold 
of  the  manager.  He'll  make  it  hot  enough  for  the  clerk 
when  I  tell  him  why  this  millionaire's  going  to  shake 
the  Hotel  du  Palais." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    MISSES    WINTERS    HEAR    MORE    ABOUT    MILES 
QUAINTANCE'S  WILL 

Neither  Fanchette  nor  her  young  mistress  was  well 
acquainted  with  those  parts  of  Paris  where  dwell  such 
as  would  live  unnoticed,  and,  when  they  reached  the 
great  city,  in  the  same  train  by  which  Dirck  Arendsen 
traveled,  they  were  very  much  at  a  loss  to  know  where 
to  turn  for  safe  shelter. 

Situated  as  they  were,  it  did  not  suit  their  purpose  to 
register  at  an  hotel,  and,  since  to  elude  observation  by 
any  of  Monsieur's  people  was  their  chief  object,  and 
his  usual  haunts  lay  well  south  of  the  Rue  St.  Lazare, 
they  turned  north  to  seek  out  some  private  lodging. 
Fanchette  had  bethought  herself  of  a  countrywoman 
and  gossip  of  hers  who  had,  in  years  gone  by,  let  rooms 
in  the  Rue  des  Trois  Freres,  and  thither  they  made 
their  way. 

The  Street  of  the  Three  Brothers  did  not  prove  at 
all  an  attractive  one,  and  it  turned  out,  moreover,  that 
Fanchette's  friend  had  gone  back  to  La  Roche-Segur, 
having  disposed  of  her  modest  maison  meublee  to  an  up- 
to-date  Parisian.  But  that  shrewd  dame  showed  them 
so  much  attention  as  well  as  the  rooms  she  had  vacant 
that,  for  lack  of  other  resort,  they  resolved  to  remain 
there  meantime.  Fanchette  went  down  stairs  again 
to  rate  the  ill-tempered  concierge  of  the  house  whose 

170 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  171 

rough  and  ready  method  of  handling  hat-boxes  did  not 
meet  with  her  approval,  while  the  girl  threw  herself 
disconsolately  into  a  chair  beside  the  window  of  her 
little  chamber  and  looked  out  with  weary  eyes  at  the 
dull,  dingy  street. 

What  she  saw  and  heard  there  was  all  so  different 
from  the  clean,  sweet  solitude  of  the  quiet  bungalow 
on  Peconic  Bay  that  she  could  by  no  means  shake  off 
the  dejection  induced  by  the  contrast.  And  neither 
was  this  the  Paris  which  she  had  known,  that  bright, 
sunny  vista  of  avenues  and  open  spaces  where  one 
might  wander  at  will  and  without  fear  of  any  such 
enemy  as  she  was  seeking  concealment  from  now. 

Circumstances  had  changed  very  sadly  for  her  since 
she  had  ceased  to  be  an  inmate  of  the  modest  pension 
on  the  Avenue  Marceau,  since  that  fateful  day  on  which 
she  had  kissed  the  two  old  maids  there  good-bye,  gone 
out  into  an  unknown  world  to  shape  her  own  destiny 
to  her  own  ideas.  And  it  had  cost  her  almost  more 
than  she  could  well  count  to  shape  it  to  such  futile 
end  that  she  was  now  a  denizen  of  the  Rue  des  Trois 
Freres,  alone  and  friendless  save  for  Fanchette! 

Withal,  however,  she  could  not  find  it  in  her  to  re- 
pent herself  of  that  most  impulsive  step.  She  had  done 
all  she  could  to  extricate  herself  from  the  cruel  tangle 
in  which  fate  had  enmeshed  her.  Some  day,  perhaps, 
she  would  be  free,  and,  while  she  lived,  she  would  fight 
for  her  freedom.  She  was  a  soldier's  daughter,  and  for 
her  there  could  be  no  surrender.  That  brave  thought 
sufficed  to  comfort  her,  and,  when  Fanchette  once 
more  appeared,  she  put  all  doubts  behind  her,  reso- 
lutely assumed  an  outward  indifference  to  her  sur- 
roundings which  went  far  to  encourage  her  companion. 


I72  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

That  afternoon  they  spent  indoors,  but  next  day 
they  drove  to  the  bank  in  which  she  had  been  forced 
to  leave  such  funds  as  had  been  lying  there  on  the 
occasion  of  her  hurried  flight  from  France,  and  which 
she  had  not  since  felt  safe  to  send  for,  lest  in  doing  so 
she  should  afford  her  enemy  clue  to  her  whereabouts. 
It  was  no  great  amount,  not  much  more  than  ten  thou- 
sand francs,  accumulated  from  the  liberal  allowance 
Miles  Quaiutance  had  made  her  during  her  sojourn  in 
Europe,  but  it  was  a  comfort  to  have  it  once  more  in 
her  own  possession.  All  there  was  left  of  the  sum  ob- 
tained by  the  sale  of  her  car  would  not  have  lasted  them 
long,  whereas,  with  this  supplement,  it  would  be  pos- 
sible to  carry  out  her  intention  of  earning  her  further 
livelihood  in  some  far  part  of  the  world.  Other  girls 
were  doing  that — why  not  she  ? 

She  fancied  that  the  clerk  who  attended  her  in  the 
bank  had  shown  more  interest  in  her  than  was  alto- 
gether necessary,  but  he  asked  no  needless  questions 
as  she  feared  he  might,  and,  when  she  returned  to  Fan- 
chette  who  was  anxiously  awaiting  her  in  a  closed  cab 
at  the  sidewalk,  it  was  with  the  gratifying  announce- 
ment that  she  had  accomplished  the  object  of  their  long 
voyage  from  New  York. 

"Yes,  everything  went  quite  smoothly,"  she  told  that 
apprehensive  questioner.  "They  paid  my  cheque  with- 
out the  slightest  hesitation,  and — all  will  go  well  now, 
Fanchette.  To-morrow,  I  think,  we  may  leave  for 
London." 

"Why  not  to-night,  ma'mselle?"  Fanchette  asked 
eagerly.  "Delay  may  bring  danger,  and — Monsieur  is 
powerful  in  Paris,  even  from  a  great  distance." 

"To-night,  then,  if  you  will,"  the  girl  agreed  readily. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  173 

When  they  reached  the  Rue  des  Trois  Freres,  how- 
ever, Andre,  the  concierge,  came  forward,  chuckling 
causelessly,  to  tell  them  that  there  was  a  visitor  wait- 
ing them.  Their  irrepressible  start  of  dismay  did  not 
escape  his  sharp  eyes,  and  he  was  still  chuckling  when 
he  got  back  to  his  lair  underneath  the  stairs  they  were 
tremulously  ascending. 

"Eh,  bien,  Mdlle.  Fanchette!"  said  he  to  himself  in  a 
tone  of  great  satisfaction.  "It  is  now  that  you  must 
feel  sorry  you  spoke  so  rudely  to  Andre  yesterday. 
That  old  good-for-nothing  has  still  a  tooth  in  his  head, 
and  can  bite  with  it,  Mdlle.  Fanchette." 

They  entered  their  little  parlor,  in  trepidation  to  find 
a  stranger  installed  there,  a  man  of  coldly  official  as- 
pect, with  something  of  the  professional  ferret  about 
him,  who  turned  out  to  be  an  agent  de  surete  from  the 
Prefecture  on  the  Quai  des  Orfevres. 

He  explained  his  mission,  politely  enough  but  with 
obvious  indifference.  The  declaration  of  identity  made 
by  Mdlle.  Lorraine  on  entering  the  country  was  be- 
lieved to  be  a  misleading  one.  The  Chief  of  Police  di- 
rected that  she  and  the  person  described  as  Fanchette 
Lefevre  should  remain  in  their  present  quarters  and  un- 
der surveillance  pending  some  inquiry  by  the  depart- 
ment into  mademoiselle's  antecedents. 

"But  this  is  an  outrage!"  the  girl  exclaimed.  "The 
Chief  of  Police  is  apparently  not  aware  that  I'm  an 
American." 

The  plain-clothes  policeman  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
He  did  not  know,  and  did  not  greatly  care.  His  part 
was  solely  that  of  a  messenger. 

"Mademoiselle  is  allowed  every  liberty  of  move- 
ment," he  suggested  smoothly,  "except  as  regards 


174  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

leaving  Paris.  It  might  be  that  application  to  the 
American  Consul  would  serve  to  put  matters  right  for 
her." 

She  shook  her  head  vexedly,  knowing  that  such  re- 
course had  been  cut  off  by  her  own  conduct.  And  the 
man  did  not  fail  to  observe  the  involuntary  action,  from 
which  he  drew  his  own  inference.  He  rose  to  go. 

"Mademoiselle  will  be  closely  watched,"  he  warned 
her.  "It  will  therefore  be  well  to  comply  carefully  with 
the  requirements  of  the  authorities." 

"But  for  how  long?"  she  asked,  in  desperation. 

"Until  further  notice.  Word  will  be  sent  as  soon  as 
the  surveillance  can  safely  be  discontinued." 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other,  aghast,  as  his 
footsteps  sounded  more  faintly  and  ceased.  Fanchette 
crept  across  to  a  window,  and,  peering  therefrom,  saw 
him  stop  on  the  opposite  pavement  to  exchange  a  few 
words  with  a  shabby-looking  nondescript  lounging  in  a 
low  doorway  there.  Both  looked  up  in  her  direction, 
and,  in  spite  of  the  muslin  screen  which  sheltered  her 
from  their  gaze,  she  shrank  back,  crossing  herself.  The 
strange  prescience  of  the  Quai  des  Orfevres  frightened 
her,  as  it  has  frightened  many  of  a  more  educated  in- 
telligence. 

"We  may  almost  give  up  the  struggle,  it  seems, 
Fanchette,"  said  the  girl  after  a  long  interval,  during 
which  she  had  been  counting  every  remaining  chance. 
Her  eyes  were  heavy,  her  tone  was  one  of  hopeless  dis- 
couragement. "To  carry  it  on  now  would  be  to  court 
needless  scandal,  and,  after  all  we  have  sacrificed  to 
escape  that,  it  would  be  foolish  as  well  as  futile  to  incur 
it  at  the  finish.  There's  nothing  for  it  but  to  await 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  175 

Monsieur's  next  move,  and  meantime  we  must  make 
the  time  pass  as  best  we  can. 

"We  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the  police,"  she  con- 
tinued, to  soothe  her  maid's  very  evident  agitation,, 
"while  we  don't  attempt  to  evade  them.  They  will  not 
molest  us,  Fanchette.  We  are  free  to  come  and  go  as 
we  please,  in  Paris.  This  is  no  more  than  Monsieur's 
method  of  detaining  us  until  he  conies." 

Fanchette  nodded  her  comprehension,  but  was  not 
comforted.  She  was  a  peasant  woman  of  the  Vendee, 
where  Monsieur  too  had  been  born.  Her  humble  home 
had  lain  under  the  swart  shadow  of  his  father's  great 
fortalice  at  La  Roche-Segur,  which  was  his  now. 
Something  of  the  old  feudal  awe  oppressed  her  in  his 
presence,  and  she  had  an  absurd  belief  in  the  scope  of 
his  powers.  It  had  required  no  common  courage  on 
her  part  to  aid  the  girl  against  him,  and  now  it  ter- 
rified her  to  anticipate  his  coming. 

She  put  a  brave  face  on  it,  none  the  less,  for  the 
girl's  sake,  and  they  two  kept  each  other  thus  in  coun- 
tenance during  the  dreary  days  that  ensued.  They 
did  not  venture  outdoors  again  for  some  time,  and  had 
no  further  visitors,  so  that  they  were  not  profitable 
to  the  avaricious  Andre,  ensconced  in  his  den  at  the 
stair-foot,  always  on  the  lookout  for  pourboires.  But 
he  bided  his  time,  and  grumbled,  always  grumbled. 

"There  will  be  more  of  interest  presently,"  he  told 
himself  each  time  he  carried  up  to  Fanchette  the  mar- 
keting which  madame  the  proprietrix  had  done  for  her, 
and  knocked,  and  had  the  door  shut  sharply  in  his  face 
as  soon  as  he  had  accomplished  his  errand.  Fanchette 
•did  not  like  Andre  either,  and  was  too  honest  to  at- 
tempt petty  diplomacy. 


176  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"There  will  be  more  of  interest  presently.  Such  an 
one  as  Ma'mselle  does  not  live  in  the  Rue  des  Trois 
Freres,  and  with  a  detective  at  the  door,  for  nothing. 
She  is  young,  and  beautiful!  And  genteel  too, — not 
like  those  others!  But  as  for  her  femme-de-chambre — 
Bah!" 

And  Andre  snapped  his  fingers  derisively,  screwing 
his  snub  nose  into  still  uglier  shape. 

The  days  passed  somehow,  and  nothing  disturbed 
their  monotony.  The  shabby-looking  nondescript  kept 
careful  watch,  but  Fanchette  had  become  accustomed 
to  his  company  and  even  plucked  up  courage  to  sug- 
gest that  the  girl  and  she  might  as  well  go  out  and  get 
some  fresh  air,  if  only  for  health's  sake. 

"We'll  go  down  to  the  Avenue  Marceau  this  after- 
noon, if  you  like,"  her  mistress  assented.  "There's 
nothing  to  be  gained  now  by  hiding  here,  and  it  will 
do  us  no  harm  to  have  a  chat  with  the  two  old  ladies. 
They  will  not  gossip  about  our  affairs." 

That  afternoon,  therefore,  they  took  the  Metropoli- 
tain  to  the  Place  de  1'Etoile  and  walked  down  to  the 
Misses  Winters'  select  pension,  where  they  were  re- 
ceived with  a  warmth  of  welcome  which  did  them  both 
good.  It  was  inspiriting  to  find  that  they  had  at  least 
two  friends  in  the  teeming  city,  where,  they  had  been 
prone  to  think  of  late,  they  were  pent  in  among  mys- 
terious enemies.  And  even  the  stiffly  furnished  draw- 
ing-room seemed  homelike  and  familiar  after  the  Rue 
des  Trois  Freres. 

"And  we  have  news  for  you,  my  dear,"  Miss  Jane 
said,  while  Miss  Sophia,  on  hospitable  thoughts  intent, 
bustled  about  a  tiny  tea-table  set  near  the  window. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"We  have  great  news  for  you,  if  you  have  not  already 
heard  it, — about  your  cousin  ?" 

She  beamed  inquiringly  upon  the  girl,  who  answered, 
with  a  sudden  sinking  of  the  heart  which  left  her  lips 
pale, 

"I  have  heard  nothing  of  him." 

"He  was  here  only  a  few  days  ago,"  said  Miss  Sophia, 
not  to  be  outdone  of  opportunity. 

"And  very  much  upset  he  was  to  find  that  you  had 
left  us,"  said  Miss  Jane. 

Fanchette  sniffed,  and  her  mistress  turned  troubled 
eyes  from  one  to  another  of  the  two  sisters,  who  were 
regarding  her  with  a  triumphant  smile,  imagining  in 
their  kind  hearts  that  she  could  not  but  be  delighted 
to  hear  of  her  new-found  relative. 

"He  had  come  all  the  way  from  San  Francisco  in 
search  of  you,"  resumed  Miss  Sophia,  making  that  mis- 
statement  from  a  memory  never  to  be  trusted. 

"And  he  declared  that  you  had  not  gone  there  when 
you  left  Paris,"  Miss  Jane  added  a  little  doubtfully,  not 
wishing  to  display  an  undue  curiosity  and  yet  desirous 
that  she  should  be  able  to  refute  such  a  misrepresenta- 
tion of  fact. 

The  girl  had  not  been  very  certain  how  much  it 
might  be  wise  to  tell  them,  but  this  unexpected  infor- 
mation decided  her.  It  did  not  seem  fair  that  her  mo- 
tives should  be  so  liable  to  misconstruction,  and  she 
almost  regretted  now  that  she  had  not  given  them  her 
confidence  from  the  beginning.  But  she  had  been  afraid 
that  Miss  Sophia's  garrulous  simplicity  might  have  be- 
trayed her,  no  matter  how  unwittingly,  and  it  would 
have  been  too  invidious  to  beg  Miss  Jane  to  keep  a 
secret  from  her  sister. 


1 78  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"He  was  quite  right,"  she  answered  quickly,  now  that 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  clear  herself  in  their  eyes. 
"I  didn't  go  to  San  Francisco  after  all.  And  I  must 
tell  you  why.  I  hope  you  won't  think  I  did  wrong,  be- 
cause— I  couldn't  help  myself." 

"My  dear,"  Miss  Jane  assured  her  tenderly,  "I'm 
sure  that  you  would  not  do  anything  but  what  was  right 
and  proper.  I  said  so  to  Sophia,  after  your  cousin 
called.  But  go  on." 

"It  was  because  of  him  I  had  to  leave  you,"  the  girl 
began.  "I  must  explain,  in  the  first  place,  that  he  is 
not  my  cousin  except  by  courtesy. 

"You  see,"  she  went  on  while  the  sisters  listened  in 
grave  surprise,  "Mr.  Miles  Quaintance  had  no  family. 
He  was  not  married.  My  father  was  Lieutenant  Gen- 
eral Lorraine,  and,  when  he  died  in  San  Francisco,  not 
many  months  after  my  mother,  Mr.  Quaintance 
adopted  me.  I  was  an  infant  then. 

"He  always  called  me  Elinor,  after  some  old  sweet- 
heart of  his.  I  didn't  know  my  own  name  till  the  day 
before  I  left  for  Europe,  when  he  told  me  my  history 
and  what  I  owed  him — although  I  had  had  no  voice  in 
the  matter." 

"He  wrote  of  you  as  Elinor,"  said  Miss  Sophia. 
"Elinor  Quaintance.  I  wonder  who  she  married." 

Her  mind  was  running  on  the  dead  man's  dead  ro- 
mance— or  tragedy.  Her  face  expressed  intensest  in- 
terest. 

"I  don't  know,"  the  girl  rejoined,  "but  he  believed 
that  he  had  been  bitterly  wronged.  He  was  a  strange 
man  in  many  ways,  very  reserved  and  often  moody,  al- 
ways most  arbitrary.  I  am  indebted  to  him  for  all  I 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  179 

ever  had,  and  yet — I  had  no  love  for  him.  I  was  glad 
to  leave  his  house  to  come  here." 

"Oh,  my  dear!"  cried  Miss  Jane,  much  distressed. 

"It  may  be  wrong,  but — one  can't  help  one's  feel- 
ings, and  it's  best  to  be  quite  honest  about  it.  Had  I 
had  any  choice,  I  would  have  owed  him  nothing.  No 
man  can  buy  affection.  He  cannot  buy  another's  flesh 
and  blood,  nor  can  he  sell  either  of  these.  Mr.  Quaint- 
ance  believed  he  had  bought  me.  He  would  have  sold 
me  too.  Can  you  blame  me  if  I  feel  barely  grateful  to 
him?" 

She  paused,  half  wishful  of  some  assurance  that  she 
was  not  so  blameworthy  as  she  had  sometimes  deemed 
herself  in  spite  of  her  strong  innate  sense  of  right  and 
wrong,  but  the  problem  involved  was  all  too  compli- 
cated yet  for  the  sisters,  whose  lives  had  always  run  in 
straight,  well-charted  channels. 

"When  Mr.  Ouaintance  died,"  she  once  more  went 
on,  "his  lawyers  sent  me  a  long  letter  he  had  written 
me.  I  was  a  very  cruel  letter  and  told  me,  in  so  many 
words,  that  he  had  already  disposed  of  my  future.  I 
was  to  marry  his  brother's  son,  a  man  I  had  never 
heard  of  before  and  whom  he  had  never  seen.  And 
there  was  a  penalty  attached,  which  he  no  doubt 
thought  too  dreadful  to  be  incurred  by  either  of  us. 

"He  had  left  a  large  estate,  some  millions,  I  think, 
which  would  be  awarded  us  on  the  sole  condition  that 
we  were  married  within  a  year  of  his  death.  Failing1 
which,  we  would  both  be  left  penniless. 

"In  other  words,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  present 
me,  his  chattel,  to  an  unknown  man,  and  to  pay  him 
handsomely  for  accepting  me.  Would  any  girl  have 
submitted  to  such  unspeakable  degradation!" 


180  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

She  was  breathing  quickly,  her  eyes  aglow  with  a 
wounded  pride. 

"I  was  powerless  to  alter  the  past,  and  I  felt  my  posi- 
tion so  keenly  then  that  I  didn't  dare  to  ask  your  ad- 
vice, in  case  you  should  seek  to  influence  me  against 
the  decision  I  came  to  as  soon  as  I  had  read  the  letter 
through.  Mr.  Ouaintance  had  written  his  nephew  to 
the  same  effect,  and  I  was  dreadfully  afraid  he  might 
seek  me  out  at  once.  I  was  quite  determined  that, 
under  no  circumstances,  would  I  consent  to  any  such 
monstrous  arrangement,  and,  although  I  was  little 
more  than  a  school-girl  then,  I  felt  that  starvation 
would  be  far  easier  and  less  painful  than " 

"You  were  quite  right,  my  dear,"  Miss  Jane  com- 
mented, as  she  stopped  at  a  loss  for  words  in  which 
to  express  the  alternative  decently.  That  spinster  had 
all  the  respect  of  the  shabby-genteel  for  wealth  and  po- 
sition, but  under  her  well-worn,  old-fashioned  bodice 
beat  the  heart  of  a  plain-thinking,  old-fashioned  woman 
who  did  not  believe  that  womanhood  should  be  bar- 
tered for  wealth  and  position,  or  that  a  harlot's  bread 
could  be  aught  but  bitter. 

"You  were  quite  right,  my  dear,  and — I  wish  you 
had  trusted  us/' 

The  girl  bowed  her  head,  in  regret  that  was  much 
more  poignant  than  her  friends  could  understand  while 
there  was  still  untold  what  might  well  prove  the  worst 
half  of  her  misfortunes.  And  as  to  that  half  she  could 
not  even  now  take  them  fully  into  her  confidence. 

"I  wish  I  had,  dear  Miss  Jane/'  she  said  humbly. 
"But — I  ran  away  instead.  I  went  to  New  York,  and 
stopped  there  instead  of  crossing  to  San  Francisco.  I 
had  not  posted  the  letter  you  wrote  telling  Mr.  Quaint- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  181 

ance's  lawyers  that  I  was  leaving  you.  I  didn't  intend 
to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  them,  and — my  onljr 
ambition  was  to  keep  out  of  the  nephew's  way.  But, 
at  the  last  moment,  I — I  was  so  hurried  that  I  had  to 
leave  some  of  my  money  in  the  bank  here,  and  Fan- 
chette  and  I  have  come  over  to  see  about  that." 

Silence  followed  her  somewhat  abrupt  conclusion, 
and  she  sat,  with  anxious  eyes,  awaiting  their  verdict 
on  her  behavior.  Fanchette  was  respectfully  seated 
behind  her,  one  of  Miss  Sophia's  most  cherished  after- 
noon-teacups in  her  trembling,  work-worn  hands.  Miss 
Jane  was  stiffly  erect  in  her  straight-backed  chair,  Miss 
Sophia  gazing  abstractedly  out  of  the  window,  her 
mind  occupied  not  with  the  past  but  with  future  possi- 
bilities. And  neither  of  them  was  inclined  to  misjudge 
the  girl. 

"Then  you  don't  wish  to  meet  this  young  man  at 
all,"  said  Miss  Jane  decisively.  "He's  been  here  two 
or  three  times  to  find  out  whether  you've  called.  He 
told  us  that  you  were  in  Paris  again  although  we  were 
scarcely  inclined  to  believe  him  at  first." 

"How  can  he  know  that!"  cried  the  girl  in  renewed 
alarm.  "Oh,  I  hope  you  won't  tell  him  a  word  about 
me,  Miss  Jane,  Miss  Sophia.  Please  promise  me  that." 

"You  may  depend  upon  us,  my  dear,"  the  sisters  as- 
sured her  in  chorus. 

"And,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  Miss  Jane  added  witfi 
strong  conviction,  "he  isn't  altogether  a — a  nice  young 
man." 

"Not  by  any  means  a  nice  young  man,"  Miss  Sophia 
affirmed,  recollecting  how  Seager  had  glared  at  her  in 
the  course  of  their  first  interview. 

"And  you  needn't  give  us  any  address,"  her  sister 


182  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

suggested.  "If  he  should  call  again,  as  he  said  he 
would,  we  shall  simply  inform  him  that  we  don't  know 
where  you  are,  and  beg  him  to  discontinue  his  visits." 

"There's  a  shabby-looking  person  outside  staring  up 
at  the  house  at  this  moment,"  said  Miss  Sophia  from 
her  window  seat,  a  tremor  in  her  thin  voice.  "I  hope 
he  hasn't  employed  a  private  detective  to  trace  you — 
although,  to  be  sure,  he  looked  just  the  sort  of  gentle- 
man who  would  do  that." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense !"  her  sister  retorted  sharply. 
"Sophia,  you  read  far  too  many  novels.  People  don't 
do  that  sort  of  thing  in  real  life." 

"The  man's  there,  all  the  same,"  Miss  Sophia  pro- 
tested, and  their  guest  rose,  inwardly  much  embar- 
rassed. 

"I  think  I'll  go  now,"  she  said  anxiously,  unwilling 
to  excite  further  conjecture  while  she  herself  knew, 
only  too  well,  who  her  unpleasant  attendant  was. 

"Thank  you  so  much  for  all  your  kindness  and — and 
encouragement.  I  wish  I  could  have  told  you " 

"My  dear,"  Miss  Jane  broke  in,  kissing  her  with 
great  tenderness,  "come  to  us  when  you  can,  and  tell 
us  what  you  will.  We  are  two  poor  old  women,  not 
very  able,  perhaps,  to  advise  you.  But  you  may  be 
sure  that  we'll  never  advise  you  otherwise  than  as  your 
own  mother  would.  Had  we  believed  that  there's 
nothing  in  this  world  of  more  worth  than  money,  we 
need  not  have  been  keeping  a  boarding  house  to-day. 
Be  brave !  You'll  see  your  way  by  degrees,  and  if  we 
can  help  you  in  any  manner,  we  will,  most  gladly." 

"Poor  thing!"  Miss  Sophia  sighed  soulfully  as  she 
returned  to  her  favorite  post  at  the  window,  to  watch 
the  two  disappear  down  trie  avenue  faithfully  followed 


'A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  183 

by  the  lounger  she  had  observed,  a  fact  which  she  did 
not  fail  to  communicate  argumentatively  to  her  sister. 
"Poor  thing!  I  hope  she'll  be  happy.  She's  so  strong, 
Jane.  Not  many  girls  would  have  withstood  the  temp- 
tation of  millions,  I  fear — and  the  strong  suffer  most." 

"I'm  surprised  at  you,  Sophia,"  Miss  Jane  returned, 
still  severely.  "No  right-minded  girl  would  have  acted 
otherwise  than  she  has  done,  and  I  don't  know  what 
sort  of  man  Mr.  Miles  Quaintance  could  have  been  to 
plan  such  a " 

"Then  all  I  can  say,  Jane,  is,"  Sophia  interpolated, 
"that  there  are  a  good  many  wrong-minded  girls  now- 
adays." 

Miss  Jane  was  on  the  point  of  reprehending  her  for 
such  a  censorious  statement  when  she  was  balked  in 
that  praiseworthy  purpose  by  an  exclamation  of  dis- 
may from  her  younger  sister. 

"Dear  me!  What  is  it  now,  Sophia?"  she  asked  ag- 
grievedly. 

"Oh,  how  unfortunate!  Jane,  they've  just  met  that 
gentleman  with  the  black  beard  who  was  with  Mr. 
Quaintance  last  time  he  called — and  he's  stopped  them. 
— and,  well  I  declare! — if  they  haven't  all  three  gone 
on  together. 

"Jane,  I  don't  see  how  she  can  help  herself  now. 
He'll  take  her  straight  to  her  cousin." 


CHAPTER  XV 
PLAISIR  D'AMOUR  NE  DURE  QU'UN  MOMENT 

But,  while  events  were  thus  conspiring  against  the 
rightful  heirs  to  Miles  Quaintance's  millions,  the  dead 
man's  legitimate  nephew,  indifferent  as  ever  to  his  un- 
cle's wishes  and  the  reward  of  compliance  with  them, 
had  not  been  idle  in  the  pursuit  of  his  own  expensive 
ambition. 

No  sooner  had  Stephen  Quaintance  seen  the  girl 
whom  he  knew  only  as  Dagmar  sail  from  New  York 
than  he  determined  to  follow  her.  Cornoyer  and  he  to- 
gether crossed  by  the  first  available  steamer.  They 
landed  at  Cherbourg  and  came  on  to  Paris  in  haste  by 
train. 

"You  must  come  to  my  house  to  stop,"  said  Cor- 
noyer affectionately,  as  the  fast  express  sped  through 
Clichy-Levallois  on  its  way  to  St.  Lazare.  "My  mother 
will  be  much  pleased  to  see  you  there." 

"Sorry  old  chap,"  said  Quaintance,  "but — I've  got 
another  engagement.  You're  very  kind,  and  I'd  like 
nothing  better,  but — some  other  time." 

Cornoyer's  face  expressed  the  extreme  of  dejection, 
but  he  said  no  more  at  the  moment — so  much  had  he 
learned  of  Quaintance's  character — and  presently  they 
rolled  into  the  busy  terminus. 

"Votta  la  p'tite  maman!"  cried  the  volatile  French- 
man exuberantly,  and,  bursting  forth  ere  the  train  had 

184 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  185 

well  slowed  down,  threw  his  arms  about  a  fashionably 
dressed  matron  who  might  almost  have  passed  for  his 
sister.  She  returned  his  embrace  with  equal  fervor, 
quite  disregarding  the  general  public  which  was  taking 
an  unaffected  interest  in  the  distinguished-looking 
young  man  with  whom  the  handsome  grande  dame 
seemed  to  be  on  such  intimate  terms.  Then  she  held 
him  at  arm's  length  to  see  what  he  looked  like  after  his 
prolonged  absence  in  foreign  parts,  and  Cornoyer  beck- 
oned Quaintance  forward. 

"There  is  here  a  Yank  in  the  train  who  is  my  friend," 
he  cried  ecstatically,  "and  you  must  make  him  come 
home  with  us. 

"This  is  my  little  old  mamma,"  he  remarked  to 
Quaintance,  hat  in  hand  before  his  mother.  "She 
speaks  no  English  like  me,  but  she  is  the  goods."  And, 
leaving  the  two  together,  he  turned  to  where  a  tall 
footman  in  quietly  sumptuous  livery  was  occupied  in 
extracting  their  light  baggage  from  the  compartment, 
and  who  received  him  with  an  irrepressible  grin. 

"Hole,  Gaston.  I'm  glad  to  see  you  and  Paris  again. 
How  do  we  drive?  Omnibus  or  barouche?  Barouche, 
eh?  And  the  baggage  by  cab?  This  gentleman's 
also." 

Quaintance  was  protesting  vehemently  to  Madame 
Cornoyer  that  he  could  not  avail  himself  of  such  hos- 
pitality, but  quite  in  vain  until  that  question  was  settled 
for  them  by  a  most  unlooked-for  arbiter.  O'Ferral 
came  quietly  forward,  and  at  sight  of  him  Cornoyer 
was  moved  to  the  utmost  excess  of  rapture  while 
Madame  Cornoyer  welcomed  him  warmly  as  an  old 
friend.  Quaintance  was  inwardly  overjoyed  to  see  him, 
but  shook  hands  stolidly,  after  the  fashion  of  the  An- 


i86  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

glo-Saxon.  And  then  the  argument  was  renewed  till 
O'Ferral  informed  them  that  he  had  already  made  all 
arrangements  for  the  newcomer's  accommodation. 
(Whereupon  Cornoyer  expressed  grave  dissatisfaction 
with  him  and  his  high-handed  methods,  but,  having 
made  careful  record  of  his  address,  drove  off,  content, 
with  his  mother. 

"What  in  creation  are  you  doing  here?"  Quaintance 
asked,  once  more  wringing  his  friend's  hand  as  they 
went  forward  to  claim  his  belongings.  "You're  the 
most  unexpected  sort  of  fellow  I  ever  came  across ! 
How  did  you  know  I'd  be  here  to-day?  Was  it  chance 
that  brought  you  along  in  the  nick  of  time,  or " 

"The  simplest  thing  in  the  world,"  O'Ferral  ex- 
plained. "Our  Paris  edition  publishes  a  list  of  passen- 
gers leaving  New  York  for  these  parts.  So  that  I 
knew  several  days  ago  when  and  where  I  might  look 
for  you.  What's  brought  you  over  here,  eh?" 

"It's  a  good  thing  I  didn't  come  on  in  my  car  from 
Cherbourg,"  said  Quaintance.  "I  should  have,  if  I 
hadn't  been  in  a  bit  of  a  hurry.  You  haven't  seen  or 
heard  anything  of — of  that  girl  of  mine  on  this  side, 
have  you?" 

"Not  a  sign  of  her.    Is  she  here?" 

"She  sailed  the  day  before  I  did,"  Quaintance  as- 
serted, and,  having  at  length  secured  his  baggage  and 
set  out  for  the  Rue  St.  Roch,  where  O'Ferral  had  his 
quarters,  he  plunged  into  a  full  and  true  account  of  his 
surprising  adventures  in  that  connection  since  he  had 
last  seen  the  correspondent.  He  had  not  yet  concluded 
when  they  reached  the  rooms  on  which  his  friend  had 
taken  an  option  for  him,  and  no  more  was  said  while 
his  trunks  were  being  conveyed  to  the  snug  entresol 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  187 

suite  adjoining  O'Ferral's  own  apartment,  into  which 
they  presently  repaired,  and  Quaintance  resumed. 

"I  think  she  intended  to  give  me  the  slip.  It  was 
by  the  purest  chance  I  hit  the  right  trail.  I  went  down 
to  the  dock  to  see  Cornoyer  off,  but  he  was  late,  as 
usual.  The  boat  sailed  just  as  we  got  there,  and — the 
girl  was  on  board.  I  saw  her.  She  came  on  deck  as  it 
started." 

"Sure  it  was  she?" 

"I'll  stake  my  oath  on  that.  I'd  know  her  in  the 
dark." 

"There's  the  list  of  arrivals  for  ten  days  past."  O'Fer- 
ral  proffered  him  a  paper  and  pointed  out  a  long  col- 
umn of  names,  which  Quaintance  fell  to  perusing  with 
silent  avidity. 

"Might  be  any  one  of  a  dozen  who  have  'and  maid' 
attached  to  their  names,"  he  remarked  doubtfully,  "but 
I'll  tell  you  who  I  think  she  must  be.  Miss  Lorraine. 
Miss  Lorraine  and  maid.  Mrs.  Smith's  her  maid,  I'll 
be  bound — and  she's  Dagmar  Lorraine.  Yes,  that's  it, 
sure.  Dagmar  Lorraine." 

He  lingered  over  the  name  as  though  it  tickled  his 
ears,  and  O'Ferral,  confirmed  bachelor,  smiled  to  him- 
self. 

"Then  the  next  thing  to  do,"  he  opined,  "is  to  find 
Miss  Dagmar  Lorraine,  who  is  probably  someone  else 
altogether.  You  go  too  fast,  Steve.  Brake  down  a 
little  till  you're  more  certain  of  your  premises.  It 
won't  do,  you  know,  to  go  butting  in  on  some  entire 
stranger  with  no  better  introduction  than  some  other 
stranger's  bracelet.  Don't  give  way  to  every  rash  im- 
pulse." 

Quaintance  threw  the  paper  at  him  and  helped  him- 


i88  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

self  to  a  drink.  He  was  in  good  spirits  again,  and 
greatly  delighted  to  have  such  a  comrade  as  the  cor- 
respondent once  more  at  his  elbow. 

"Confound  it !"  he  cried.  "If  I  hadn't  stifled  my  im- 
pulses so  successfully,  I  wouldn't  be  in  any  such  mud- 
dle now.  I  kept  on  telling  myself  to  go  slow  all  the 
time,  and  you  see  the  result.  I  get  left." 

"Well,  we'll  see  what  we  can  do,"  cried  O'Ferral. 
"Where  are  we  going  to  dine  ?  I'm  free  for  this  even- 
ing. To-morrow  we're  booked  to  Cornoyer,  and,  after 
that,  as  fate  decides.  I  hope  to  be  here  for  a  few  days 
longer,  since  you've  turned  up,  but  I  may  have  to  start 
for  somewhere  else  at  a  moment's  notice." 

"Let's  dine  at  the  Anglais,"  Quaintance  suggested, 
"and  go  on  to  a  theatre.  I'm  hungry  for  light  and  life 
again.  The  sea  made  me  feel  as  if  I  were  back  in  Af- 
rica." 

They  changed  their  clothes  and  carried  out  that  pro- 
gramme, but,  among  the  many  pretty  women  they  saw 
during  dinner,  and  afterwards  from  their  fauteuils  at 
the  Gymnase,  Quaintance  could  catch  no  glimpse  of 
that  fair  face  whose  eyes  had  brought  him  over  seas, 
that  slender,  gracious  figure  which  swept  through  all 
his  dreams  like  some  stately  old-world  duchess.  He 
grew  restless  and  distrait.  O'Ferral  took  him  off  to 
supper  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  but  with  no  better  result, 
and  they  returned  to  the  Rue  St.  Roch  at  an  hour 
which  gave  the  concierge  there  a  high  opinion  of  their 
habits. 

For  the  next  few  days  they  lived  a  bustling  life  in 
conjunction  with  Cornoyer,  but  Quaintance  found  time 
withal  to  prosecute  his  assiduous  searcfi,  and  O'Ferral 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  189 

<3id  all  he  could  to  aid  him.  But  they  could  find  no 
faintest  trace  of  Dagmar  Lorraine. 

Quaintance  had  even  thoughts  of  advertising  for  the 
owner  of  the  bracelet,  but  finally  decided  not  to  do  so, 
since  he  could  not  well  plead  ignorance  of  her  desire 
regarding  it.  He  presently  took  to  his  car  again,  and 
patrolled  Paris  both  within  and  without  the  walls,  in 
the  vain  hope  that  fortune  might  once  more  favor  him 
through  that  medium. 

One  afternoon  he  drove  Madame  Cornoyer  and  her 
hopeful  son  to  Auteuil,  where  there  was  a  steeple- 
chase meeting  at  which  he  could  count  on  seeing  a 
good  many  members  of  the  English  and  American 
colonies  in  the  French  capital.  There  were  graceful 
beauties  of  many  nations  in  gorgeous  gowns  on  the 
grand  stand,  where  Cornoyer  dutifully  established  'his 
mother  amid  a  laughing  circle  of  friends  ere  carrying 
Quaintance  off  to  the  paddock,  but  none  to  compare, 
in  the  American's  mind,  with  the  simple  maiden  he  had 
found  barefoot  on  the  seashore.  At  thought  of  that 
brief,  unforgettable  moment  he  heaved  a  great  sigh, 
and,  looking  round,  half  afraid  that  his  mischievous 
friend  might  have  heard  it,  found  that  Cornoyer  had 
deserted  him.  That  earnest  sportsman  was  running 
hither  and  thither,  between  owners,  jockeys,  and  the 
booths  of  the  pari-mutuel.  And  Quaintance  was  not 
sorry  to  be  left  alone  for  a  little. 

He  was  wandering  up  and  down  disconsolately, 
puffing  a  cigarette,  not  much  interested  in  the  race  on 
hand,  when  he  saw  a  familiar  face  in  the  throng  and  al- 
most immediately  lost  it  again.  It  was  that  of  a  man, 
but  he  could  not  at  once  recall  where  he  had  last  seen 
it,  until  like  a  flash  there  came  to  him  the  resemblance 


190  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

of  one  in  a  light  tweed  suit  and  a  panama  who  had 
shown  a  suspicious  interest  in  the  shutters  of  the  bun- 
galow on  Peconic  Bay. 

It  cost  him  two  or  three  precious  minutes  to  find 
Cornoyer,  and,  when  he  at  length  discovered  him,  it 
was  too  late  to  trace  the  unknown.  He  described  that 
individual  as  well  as  he  could,  but  the  broad  details 
which  were  all  he  could  well  supply  were  insufficient 
for  any  identification.  Cornoyer  cudgelled  his  brains 
to  fit  the  right  name  to  them,  but,  after  he  had  sug- 
gested a  dozen  whose  owners  distinctly  resembled  the 
person  pictured,  Quaintance  gave  that  chance  up  as 
lost.  He  felt  dull  and  disappointed  as  he  returned  to 
the  city  with  a  gay  party  in  the  tonneau,  since  to  have 
found  out  who  the  man  was  might  have  been  of  assist- 
ance incalculable  in  locating  the  girl.  And  fortunately 
O'Ferral  was  at  home,  ready  to  condole  with  him  over 
such  mishap. 

"I  wish  I  could  have  dodged  this  reception  to-night," 
said  Quaintance,  as  they  sat  smoking  together  in  the 
correspondent's  rooms  after  dinner.  I  don't  feel  in 
tune  for  festivity." 

"Brace  up!"  urged  his  friend.  ''You  can  never  tell 
\vhen  or  where  your  luck  may  be  going  to  change. 
You  might  easily  meet  Miss  Lorraine — or  that  man — 
at  the  Elysee.  Brace  up!  Don't  lose  your  grip  on  the 
game !" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  standing  out  for  a  moment,"  Quaint- 
ance declared.  "I'll  play  my  hand  to  a  finish  before  I 
quit.  What  time  do  we  start?" 

"In  about  half  an  hour.  I  want  to  be  on  the  spot 
early,  if  you  don't  mind." 

In  half  an  hour  therefore  they  drove  along  to  the 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  191, 

Palace,  there  to  attend  the  function  for  which  Mme. 
Cornoyer,  at  her  son's  instigation,  had  got  Quaintance 
a  card,  while  O'Ferral  had  received  his  from  an  official 
source.  The  correspondent  was  persona  grata,  on  his 
own  merits  as  much  as  owing  to  his  professional  stand- 
ing, with  many  of  those  in  high  places,  but  they  were 
not  unaware  that  the  unobtrusive  young  man  who  now 
and  then  passed  through  Paris  without  attracting  other 
attention  than  theirs,  was  the  trusted  representative  of 
a  power  beyond  that  wielded  by  any  ruler. 

Quaintance  had  revived  outwardly  by  the  way,  and, 
having  been  duly  presented  to  his  official  host,  who 
also  greeted  O'Ferral  with  a  grave  cordiality,  passed 
on  into  the  grand  reception  room,  looking  about  him 
with  lively  interest. 

The  scene  there  was  a  very  brilliant  one,  and  he  felt 
well  repaid  for  the  effort  of  will  power  which  it  had 
cost  him  to  come.  He  drew  the  correspondent  to  one 
side  and  they  took  up  an  inconspicuous  position  beside 
one  of  the  four  great  pillars  which  formed  a  quadrangle 
between  the  ante-room,  and  the  long  salon  whither 
most  of  the  guests  were  repairing.  Thence  they  com- 
manded a  clear  view  of  the  lofty,  curtained  entrance 
where  two  resplendent  huissiers  were  admitting  each 
new  arrival  after  resonant  announcement  of  his  or  her 
title  or  style. 

The  chandeliers  overhead  lent  added  glory  to  the 
magnificently  frescoed  ceiling  and  lit  up  a  blaze  of 
color  below.  Soldiers,  sailors,  and  diplomats  outvied 
each  other  in  blue,  and  scarlet,  and  gold,  while  the 
gleam  of  bare  shoulders,  the  varied  hues  of  the 
women's  ravishing  toilettes,  set  off  by  the  sombre 


192  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

black  coats  of  those  men  who  did  not  wear  uniform, 
blended  with  them  in  a  rainbow-like  harmony. 

It  was  not  yet  late,  and  the  spacious  chambers  would 
be  still  more  crowded  presently.  Quaintance  looked 
in  vain  for  any  known  face  among  those  within  his 
range  of  vision,  and  then  turned  to  where  the  ushers 
were  introducing  a  steady  stream  of  equally  radiant 
humanity.  The  Cornoyers  had  not  so  far  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance, and  he  must  pay  his  respects  to  Madame  as 
soon  as  she  should  have  passed  the  President.  There- 
after he  might  leave  when  opportunity  offered,  and  he 
did  not  mean  to  remain  very  long. 

He  saw  the  British  Ambassador  enter  and  then 
there  was  a  lull  in  the  inflow.  O'Ferral's  eyes  had  been 
busy,  but  the  correspondent,  beyond  pointing  out  one 
or  two  notabilities,  had  had  little  to  say,  and  Quaint- 
ance, against  his  pillar,  able,  because  of  his  height,  to 
overlook  the  spectacle  at  his  ease,  had  fallen  into  a 
reverie.  His  glance  was  still  idly  fixed  on  the  curtains 
which  had  been  let  fall  behind  the  Englishman,  when 
the  huissier's  voice  once  more  resounded,  slow  but  dis- 
tinctly, above  the  incessant  buzz  of  the  conversation, 
the  rippling  accompaniment  of  laughter  in  bass  and 
treble. 

''Monsieur  le  Due — et  Madame  la  Duchesse  des  Reves" 
said  the  man,  very  sonorously,  and  the  silken  screens 
swung  apart. 

A  strange  hush  fell  on  the  ante-room  and  extended 
to  the  larger  salon  as  the  couple  thus  announced  came 
forward  from  between  two  lines  of  bowing  lackeys,  all 
eyes  upon  them. 

"Des   Reves  has  certainly  succeeded  in   surprising 


••MONSIEUR  LE  DUG  ET  MADAME  LA  DUCHESSE  DES  RfivES  " 


Page 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  193 

us !"  whispered  a  man  at  Quaintance's  right  hand,  and 
raised  himself  on  tiptoe. 

Quaintance  had  ceased  to  breathe.  His  lips  were 
bloodless,  compressed.  He  stood  immobile,  stricken, 
staring.  Where  had  he  seen  the  Due  before?  Once 
at  the  bungalow  on  Long  Island,  and  yet  again  that 
morning  at  Auteuil.  And  the  Duchesse  ?  Ah !  It  was 
that  which  hurt. 

She  was  dressed  in  purple  velvet.  Her  neck  and 
arms  and  shoulders,  her  fair,  sweet  face,  from  which 
the  wild  roses  had  fled,  were  all  of  a  tint  with  that  tex- 
ture. She  was  holding  her  proud  head  high.  Her  blue 
eyes  were  very  sombre  as  she  and  her  husband  stopped 
where  the  President  stood,  while  all  about  them  babel 
went  on  again  as  though  it  had  never  been  suspended. 

"Hold  up,  old  chap!"  said  O'Ferral,  for  Quaintance 
had  clutched  at  his  arm,  was  swaying,  with  bent  knees, 
like  one  on  shipboard.  His  features  were  grey  and 
drawn.  The  blow  had  been  cruelly  sudden,  and  was  so 
crushing.  It  seemed  as  though  the  very  light  of  life 
had  been  snuffed  out  in  him.  His  lips  twitched.  He 
was  speaking,  in  a  low,  broken  tone. 

"Monsieur  le  Due — et  Madame  la  Duchesse  des  Reves! 
The  Duchess  of  Dreams — my  Dagmar!  God! 

"I'm  going  away  now.     I'm  going  away,  O'Ferral." 


CHAPTER  XVI 


Of  the  three  men  who,  from  such  widely  different 
motives,  had  spared  no  pains  in  pursuit  of  her  whom 
Quaintance  now  knew  as  Dagmar,  Duchesse  des 
Reves,  Monsieur  le  Due  was  the  last  to  reach  Paris,  and 
that  in  no  over-violent  hurry.  For,  while  he  may  not 
have  wielded  such  wide  powers  as  Fanchette  credited 
him  with,  he  had  always  found  that  his  rank  in  life  car- 
ried with  it  advantages  denied  to  individuals  less  for- 
tunately situated.  When  the  ever-watchful  Jules  had 
brought  him  breathless  word  of  the  Duchesse's  final 
flight,  a  cable  message  from  New  York  had  served  to 
set  in  motion  that  machinery  by  means  of  which  she 
\vas  to  be  detained  in  Paris  for  him.  And  so  secure 
had  he  been  as  to  its  efficacy  in  that  respect,  that  he 
had  not  in  any  way  hastened  his  own  departure. 

But,  by  the  time  he  reached  his  ornate  bachelor 
apartment  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  he  had  forgotten 
the  fair  cause  of  that  delay,  was  all  impatience  to  be- 
hold her  who  awaited  him.  He  sat  down  at  his  tele- 
phone and  called  up  the  Palais  de  Justice. 

The  creature  who  had  served  his  purpose  there  was 
one  Tissot-Latour,  an  aspirant  for  social  recognition 
and  very  ready  to  oblige  a  duke.  M.  Tissot-Latour 
was  out,  it  seemed,  but  Monsieur's  urgent  message 
would  be  delivered  to  him  immediately  on  his  return, 

194 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  195 

which  would  not  be  until  late  afternoon  or  early  even- 
ing. Monsieur  gave  vent  to  his  annoyance  by  cursing 
Jules  Chevrel  when  he  appeared,  and  then  demanded 
of  that  unmoved  functionary  how  he  might  best  amuse 
himself  during  the  intervening  hours. 

Jules,  who  was  in  not  a  few  respects  an  admirable 
servant,  had  foreseen  some  such  demand  on  his  inge- 
nuity and  was  prepared  to  meet  it  with  a  well-filled 
programme  of  all  that  Paris  offered  in  the  way  of  en- 
tertainment. Monsieur  decided  on  the  steeplechases 
at  Auteuil,  and,  having  once  more  breakfasted  at  his 
usual  restaurant — he  always  ate  with  better  appetite  in 
public  than  at  any  of  his  clubs — set  forth  for  the  race- 
course in  his  most  dashing  motor,  a  scarlet  car  which 
he  affected  in  society,  taking  Jules  with  him  as  chauf- 
feur. 

He  was  in  a  restless  frame  of  mind,  and,  after  a 
turn  through  the  paddock,  where  he  met  but  few  ac- 
quaintances and  they  busily  occupied,  he  sought  and 
found  Jules  active  at  the  betting  booths,  bade  that  ag- 
grieved and  sulky  speculator  drive  him  back  to  the 
boulevards  forthwith.  There  he  left  the  red  car  at  its 
garage,  and  sent  his  valet  about  those  duties  from 
which  he  had  so  lately  released  him,  while  he  himself 
passed  the  afternoon  in  a  moody  and  aimless  prome- 
nade. 

Tissot-Latour  was  seated  in  the  smoking  room  when 
he  returned  to  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  a  little  vulgar, 
over-dressed  man,  plebeian  of  body  as  mind,  who  rose 
as  Monsieur  entered,  and  greeted  him  effusively. 

"Have  you  brought  the  address?"  the  Due  asked 
bluntly,  cutting  him  short  in  a  long  string  of  compli- 
ments and  questions. 


196  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"Certainly,"  replied  his  tool.  "You  know  that  I 
am  at  your  service,  Etienne,  and — here  it  is." 

"Rue  des  Trois  Freres,"  said  Monsieur  to  himself, 
as  he  took  the  card  proffered  him.  "What  under 
heaven  took  her  to  Montmartre! 

"Jules !  Phone  to  the  stable  to  send  the  landau  here 
at  once.  Or  no,  the  barouche  will  be  better.  And  at 
once. 

"What's  that,  Latour?  A  card  from  M.  le  Presi- 
dent's reception.  Oh,  very  well.  I'll  see  what  I  can  do 
about  it,  if  I  remember." 

"That  was  no  easy  task  you  set  me,  Etienne,"  the 
other  told  him,  affecting  to  change  the  conversation 
but  inwardly  much  piqued  by  Monsieur's  cavalier  ac- 
ceptance of  his  good  offices.  "It  would  have  been  ex- 
tremely awkward  for  me  if  the  head  of  my  department 
had  got  an  inkling  of  the  use  to  which  I  put  his  mandat, 
to  oblige  you." 

"My  dear  chap,"  Monsieur  retorted,  and,  at  the  fa- 
miliar form  of  his  address,  Tissot-Latour  wriggled  de- 
lightedly, "there  was  not  the  slightest  risk  to  you.  The 
lady  presented  herself  under  one  which  is  not  her  law- 
ful appellation,  and  that  was  in  itself  sufficient  to  jus- 
tify you  in  detaining  her.  And  she  has  made  no  pro- 
test, in  any  case,  which  lets  you  out.  I  don't  act  with- 
out knowing  where  I  stand,  and  you  will  never  get  into 
a  scrape  through  me. 

"Here,  help  yourself,  and — excuse  me  a  moment" 

He  pushed  the  tantalus  across  the  table,  and  left  his 
ally  deeply  gratified  by  his  curt  explanation  and  the 
brusque  lack  of  ceremony  he  displayed.  Was  it  not 
thus  that  the  aristocracy  treated  their  intimates, 
thought  Tissot-Latour,  dishonest  offspring  of  a  dis- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  197 

honest  dealer  in  hides  and  horns.  He  even  entertained 
some  faint  hope  that  Monsieur  might  seek  his  company 
in  the  ducal  barouche,  and  would  have  been  proud  be- 
yond words  to  show  himself  therein,  but  that  was 
doomed  to  disappointment  and  he  was  sent  about  his 
business  as  soon  as  the  great  vehicle  with  its  two 
champing  greys  appeared,  at  speed,  from  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain.  Monsieur  drove  off  in  solitary  state  after 
a  last  word  with  his  jackal. 

"Is  there  a  man  on  watch?"  he  asked. 

"There  has  been  one  since  I  had  surveillance  estab- 
lished," replied  the  other  pompously.  "You  won't  for- 
get my  card  for  the  reception,  will  you,  Etienne,  mon 
cherf" 

"  'Phone  me  about  it  later,"  Monsieur  called  back  to 
him  and,  "Confound  the  fellow's  impudent  familiarity !" 
he  muttered  to  himself. 

The  concierge  at  Number  4O-bis  in  the  Rue  des  Trois 
Freres  chuckled  explosively  when  he  beheld  the  fash- 
ionable equipage  stop  opposite  his  door. 

"Void!"  said  he,  when  he  had  got  his  breath  back. 
"I  prophesied  that  there  would  happen  something  pres- 
ently, and  here  we  have  the  confirmation  of  my  words. 
The  wealthy  prince  arrives,  in  an  expensive  chariot. 
He  is  a  young  man,  this  one,  and  of  appearance  irre- 
proachable. He  stops  to  question  the  dragon  he  has 
employed  to  guard  his  treasure.  And  now  Andre  will 
no  doubt  earn  some  small  gratuity. 

"Oui,  Monsieur.  Number  4O-bis.  What  name? 
Mdlle.  Lorraine.  Yes,  she  is  indoors,  on  the  second 
floor.  Permit  me  to  go  first  that  I  may  show  you." 

It  was  Fanchette  who  first  caught  sight  of  Mon- 
sieur's carriage  as  it  stopped  almost  opposite  the  win- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 


dow  she  was  gazing  from,  and  so  extreme  was  her 
alarm  in  consequence  that  she  could  only  point  to  it, 
while  her  lips  moved  without  a  sound.  The  girl  and 
she  had  just  returned  from  their  excursion  to  the  Ave- 
nue Marceau,  had  been  discussing  the  advisability  of 
flight  from  the  Rue  des  Trois  Freres  because  of  their 
unfortunate  encounter  with  Dirck  Arendsen. 

That  individual  had  introduced  himself  to  them,  even 
as  Miss  Sophia  had  observed,  first  as  a  fellow  passenger 
of  theirs  upon  the  steamer,  in  which  guise  they  had 
already  recognized  him,  and  then  as  a  dear  friend  of 
the  self-styled  Stephen  Quaintance,  who  was,  he 
averred,  searching  the  city  high  and  low  for  his  errant 
cousin.  He  had  proved  so  determinedly  insistent  that 
the  girl  had  at  length  complied  with  his  request  for  her 
present  address,  and  she  felt  glad  that  she  had  not 
yielded  to  the  temptation  to  mislead  him,  when  Fan- 
chette,  looking  back  as  they  turned  in  at  the  street 
door,  saw  that  he  had  followed  them  thither  at  a  re- 
spectful distance.  He  had  set  off  hot-foot  immediately 
he  was  thus  satisfied  that  it  was  safe  to  do  so,  and  might 
now  be  back  at  any  moment  with  one  of  the  two  men 
they  were  most  anxious  to  escape.  And,  in  the  mean- 
time, came  the  other. 

"It  is  Monsieur,"  the  girl  said  listlessly,  after  she 
had  found  out  what  had  so  frightened  Fanchette.  The 
hour  she  herself  had  been  dreading  for  so  long  had 
come,  but  it  found  her  with  senses  dulled  by  anticipa- 
tion. 

"It  is  Monsieur.  You  must  be  brave  now.  Fan- 
chette. And  do  not  leave  me  for  an  instant.  See,  I 
have  something  here  which  will  speak  for  us  if  our 
own  voices  are  not  loud  enough." 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  199 

She  slipped  one  hand  into  a  pocket  of  the  coat  she 
was  still  wearing  and  brought  out  the  revolver  which 
had  served  her  in  such  good  stead  on  the  occasion  of 
her  night  journey  from  New  York  to  Stormport.  It 
was  an  idle  exhibition,  and  yet  achieved  its  object. 
Fanchette  took  heart  of  grace,  and  did  not  feel  herself 
so  utterly  at  Monsieur's  mercy. 

"Sit  down,"  the  girl  said  quietly,  and,  when  Andre 
knocked,  she  herself  threw  the  door  wide,  motioned  to 
Monsieur  that  he  might  come  in.  He  did  so,  deferen- 
tially, hat  in  hand,  speaking  no  word  until  his  sharp- 
eyed  guide  had  once  more  been  shot  out.  And  then, 

"Dagmar!"  he  said  imploringly. 

She  scanned  him  closely  for  a  moment,  and  saw  that 
he  had  not  changed.  Almost  a  twelvemonth  had  gone 
by  since  that  dark  night  on  which  she  had  fled  from 
him,  leaving  behind,  in  token  of  her  desperate  resolve, 
the  wedding  ring  which  he  had  placed  upon  her  finger 
an  hour  before.  Ah !  Had  she  but  known  in  time,  had 
her  eyes  not  been  so  innocently  blind  to  the  brand  she 
could  see  so  plainly  now  on  his  smooth  forehead.  She 
had  once  thought  him  handsome — and  believed  in  him 
— and  trusted  him  implicitly.  And  insight  into  his  true 
character  had  come  to  her  only  an  hour  too  late ! 

He  met  her  gaze  with  a  tragic  humility,  such  as 
would  at  one  time  have  stood  him  in  good  stead  with 
her,  finding  her  even  fairer,  still  more  to  be  desired  than 
he  had  deemed  her.  She  was  no  longer  the  unsophisti- 
cated girl  whom  he,  with  his  wide  knowledge  of  the 
world,  had  thought  he  might  still  bring  to  book  for 
her  behavior.  The  lines  of  a  graver  experience  showed 
at  the  corners  of  her  perfect  lips  and  nostrils.  She  was 


200  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

a  woman  now,  and  altogether  lovely,  this,  his  as  yet  un- 
kissed  Duchesse. 

"Dagmar!"  he  said  imploringly,  and,  although  it 
hurt  her  to  have  him  call  her  by  that  name,  she  could 
not  help  herself.  While  he  confined  himself  to  that, 
she  could  not  check  him.  She  did  not  answer,  but 
stood  there  waiting,  her  head  back,  her  face  expres- 
sionless, at  bay. 

"Dagmar,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  here  to  plead  with 
you.  Will  you  not  send  your  maid  away,  and  let  me 
speak  ?  I  beg  that  you  will  hear  me,  and — think !  Am 
I  not  your  husband  ?" 

"Was  what  that  woman  told  me  at  the  church  door 
true?"  she  asked  him,  in  a  tone  at  which  he  winced  as 
though  it  had  been  a  whip-lash,  ignoring  his  objection 
to  her  woman's  presence. 

He  bit  his  lip,  counting  the  chances  that  a  lie  might 
pass,  but  knew  that  nothing  but  the  truth  would  serve 
him. 

"It  was  true,  to  my  shame,"  he  said.  "But  listen, 
Dagmar.  I  was  no  more  than  a  boy  then,  and — she 
entrapped  me.  That  happens  to  so  many  of  us. 

"No,  I  do  not  seek  to  excuse  myself  at  her  expense. 
I  only  pray  you  to  be  lenient  with  me.  It  was  not  al- 
together my  fault,  and " 

"It  was  true,"  she  broke  in,  not  scornfully  but  in  a 
voice  which  hurt  him  more  than  would  have  the  scorn 
he  deserved,  "and  I  am  glad  that  you  do  not  deny  it, 

else  I  should  have  to  count  you  coward  as  well  as 

But,  never  mind.    I  have  no  wish  to  judge  you.    It  was 
true — and  yet  you  call  yourself  my  husband !" 

He  would  have  spoken,  but  she  held  a  hand  up  and 
so  silenced  him. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  201 

"You  were  a  poor  man  when  I  married  you,"  she 
went  on  swiftly.  "I  did  not  know  that  you  would  one 
day  be  Due  des  Reves,  and  I — God  help  me! — I  be- 
lieved you  loved  me.  In  that  I  was  content. 

"You  married  'me  believing  me  to  be  a  rich  man's 
heiress,  and  for  the  sake  of  what  you  might  get  with 
me." 

He  would  have  cried  denial  if  he  could,  but  remained 
speechless,  with  bent  head. 

"I  could  have  told  you  then  that  he  was  dead,  and 
that  his  millions  would  all  go  elsewhere  if  I  should 
marry  you,  but — I  believed  you  loved  me ! 

"I  went  to  you,  on  impulse  and  in  haste.  There  was 
no  time  for  explanations.  And,  on  the  church  steps 
I  found  out 

"You  are  my  husband,  as  you  say, — but  in  /lame 
only,  and  because  it  was  too  late  then  to  remedy  our 
mutual  mistakes.  And  there  the  matter  rests.  It  shall 
rest  there  thought  it  cost  me  my  life  to  fight  men's 
laws." 

His  hot  eyes  met  hers  for  a  moment,  and  he  knew 
then  that  he  might  neither  bend  nor  break  her  will  to 
his.  She  was  so  very  beautiful  in  her  disdain,  defying 
him  through  life  to  death  itself,  that  he  repented  in  that 
instant  and  more  bitterly  than  he  could  have  thought 
possible  a  past  more  soiled  and  black  than  she  might 
even  imagine.  A  swift  self-pity  overcame  him  as  he 
foresaw  what  forfeit  fate  was  going  to  exact.  If  he 
had  only  had  a  chance  to  live  a  decent  life!  Had  he 
but  been  brought  up  on  different  lines !  For  her  sake 
he  would  fain  have  been  a  boy  again,  with  a  clean  page 
on  which  to  write  his  history.  But  he  could  by  no 
means  erase  the  evil  record  of  his  youth.  He  bowed 


202  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

his  head  still  lower,  because  his  eyes  were  dim  and 
could  not  meet  hers  as  her  husband's  must. 

For  a  few  seconds  he  stayed  thus.  Then  he  looked 
up  again,  his  mind  once  more  at  work  on  possibilities. 
For  her  sake,  even  at  that  late  hour,  he  might  do 
much.  He  was  yet  young,  in  years.  If  he  should  prove 
himself  more  worthy  of  her,  she  was  too  generous  of 
heart  not  to  reward  him.  Such  grace  as  she  might 
grant  him  in  the  meantime  he  would  take  from  her 
most  thankfully. 

She  was  his  wife — in  name,  this  pure,  proud  beauty 
who  despised  him  and  his  coronet.  No  other  man 
might  win  her.  He  must,  in  the  first  place,  make  terms 
of  outward  amity,  and  then — trust  time. 

"Listen,  then,"  he  requested  eagerly.  "While  you 
are  my  wife — in  name,  it  is  scarce  seemly  that  we 
should  live  thus,  as  open  enemies.  I  have  not  ceased 
to  seek  you  since  you  left  me,  and  now  we  shall  surely 
be  able  to  come  to  some  arrangement  which  will  give 
us  both  greater  peace  of  mind. 

"I  am  well  off  since  I  fell  heir  to  my  old  uncle's  vine- 
yards at  Les  Reves.  La  Roche-Segur  and  the  Chateau 
des  Reves  of  course  came  to  me  with  the  title.  You 
will  not  refuse  from  me  that  which  is  your  due. 

"It  may  be,  too,  that  my  life  will  not  be  over-long,  in 
which  case  it  would  be  well  that  you  were  recognized  as 
Duchesse  des  Reves  without  further  delay.  I  do  not 
speak  thus  to  affect  you  to  pity,  but  my  doctors  tell 
me  that  I  need  not  lay  up  any  provision  against  old 
age. 

"Would  it  not  please  you  to  establish  yourself  in  the 
Hotel  des  Reves,  while  I  remain  in  my  own  quarters 
on  this  side  of  the  river?  I  give  you  my  word  that  I 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  203 

shall  not  molest  you  in  any  way,  and  you  may  bid  your 
people  refuse  me  admission  if  I  so  much  as  approach 
the  palace  without  first  obtaining  your  leave.  I  only 
ask  you  to  bear  with  me  now  and  then  at  such  social 
engagements  as  you  may  see  fit  to  attend.  Make  any 
conditions  you  please — I  agree  to  them  all  in  advance. 
And  I  solemnly  promise  that  you  will  have  no  further 
cause  to  complain  of  my  conduct." 

His  voice  shook  slightly,  so  earnest  was  his  appeal, 
and  the  girl  had  heard  it  with  close  attention.  She  was 
no  less  anxious  than  he  to  attain  some  less  harassing 
mode  of  life  than  had  been  her  lot  of  late,  to  find  some 
safe  refuge  from  this  Stephen  Quaintance  whose  most 
unexpected  arrival  had  so  disturbed  her.  And  it  did 
not  take  her  long  to  make  up  her  mind. 

"It  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  she  said  deliberately.  "But 
only  for  such  time  as  you  shall  respect  your  promise." 

"I  shall  break  no  more  promises,"  he  assured  her 
eagerly,  all  that  was  evil  in  his  handsome  face  for  the 
nonce  obliterated  under  the  spell  of  her  gracious  pres- 
ence, looking  more  like  the  gallant  gentleman  he  might 
have  been  than  old  Fanchette  had  ever  seen  him  before. 

"I  shall  break  no  more  promises,  and  I  hope  that  you 
will  one  day  be  able  to  think  less  harshly  of  me.  When 
will  it  suit  you  to  remove  to  your  hotel?" 

"Now,  at  once." 

"Your  carriage  waits.     May  I  escort  you?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Fanchette  will  go  with  me." 

He  bowed,  choking  down  his  chagrin,  schooling  him- 
self to  prompt  obedience  since  it  was  only  by  such 
means  that  he  might  gain  her  confidence. 


204  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"Then  I  may  take  my  leave.  And,  Dagmar, — be- 
lieve me,  I  am  very  grateful  to  you." 

"I  only  seek  to  do  what  I  see  to  be  right,"  she  an- 
swered briefly. 

He  lingered  on  the  threshold,  not  daring  even  to 
hold  out  his  hand,  and  she  took  no  least  step  toward 
him. 

"Will  you  permit  me  to  make  known  our  marriage?" 
he  asked  most  humbly,  and  Fanchette  could  scarcely 
recognize  in  such  a  timid  suppliant,  the  haughty  Due 
des  Reves,  Vicomte  Aiglemont  and  Seigneur  de  la 
Roche-Segur. 

"To-night  there  is  a  reception  at  the  Elysee,"  he 
went  on  hurriedly.  "All  Paris  will  be  present.  If  you 
care  to  accompany  me,  it  would  be  very  opportune  to 
announce  it  then.  I  have  just  landed  from  New  York. 
My  friends  would  assume  that  we  had  met  and  married 
there,  which  would  save  gossip.  We  need  not  unde- 
ceive them." 

"Very  well,"  she  agreed,  walling  to  avoid  needless 
notoriety  if  that  were  possible,  and  he  withdrew,  suffi- 
ciently well  pleased. 

Dagmar,  Duchesse  des  Reves,  heard  him  go  down- 
stairs with  dragging  feet,  and  sank  into  a  chair,  a  tired 
sigh  on  her  trembling  lips. 

"I  could  not  but  surrender,  Fanchette,"  she  said 
'drearily.  "There  was  no  other  ,way,  and " 

Fanchette  enfolded  her  in  two  strong  arms. 

"You  have  done  well,  dear  heart,"  she  whispered, 
her  tone  a  caress,  holding  the  quivering  form  close 
in  her  grasp.  "You  have  done  well,  and — it  is  best  so. 
Forget  the  past.  Think  no  more  of  what  might  have 
been." 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  205 

Presently  Fanchette  set  to  her  packing,  her  mistress 
helping  her  so  that  they  might  not  lose  a  single  mo- 
ment in  making  their  escape  from  other  callers.  The 
footman  came  up  from  the  carriage  to  ask  orders,  and 
him  they  sent  to  find  a  cab,  by  which  their  baggage  was 
sent  on  ahead  of  them.  Then  they  descended  and 
drove  off  in  the  more  imposing  equipage,  amid  the 
open  curiosity  of  the  Rue  des  Trois  Freres. 

Andre  especially  was  interested,  and  although  Fan- 
chette had  feed  him  liberally  for  such  small  services  as 
he  had  rendered,  he  could  not  find  it  in  him  to  forgive 
her  the  rejection  of  his  proffered  comradeship.  He 
dropped  her  gold  piece  beside  that  the  Duke  had  given 
him,  and  spoke  sarcastically. 

"Ohe !"  said  he  from  his  post  on  the  doorstep,  "Ohe, 
old  tongue  of  vinegar,  is  it  thus  thou  wouldst  salve 
sour  speeches?  A  pleasant  word  is  sometimes  worth 
more  than  a  gold  piece,  hein !  And  it  may  be  that  we 
have  not  yet  heard  the  last  of  thee  and  thy  fair  mistress. 
Where  there  is  honey  one  may  see  more  than  a  single 
fly." 

Nor  was  it  long  before  events  justified  him  in  his 
premonition,  for,  a  short  hour  after  the  two  had  fled, 
there  came  to  the  Rue  des  Trois  Freres  in  a  great 
hurry  a  tall,  fair  man  with  bloodshot,  quarrelsome  eyes, 
and  a  dark  fellow  wearing  a  great  black  beard  and 
moustache.  In  whom  Andre  discovered  a  fresh  source 
of  revenue,  but  only  after  he  had  proved  to  them  that 
it  was  not  his  fault  that  the  girl  had  gone.  He  made 
high  terms  with  them,  and  having  taken  payment  for 
his  information  in  advance,  told  them  how  they  might 
find  her,  chuckling  wheezily  the  while. 

"You  must  ask  the  great  Due  des  Reves  where  she 


206  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

is  now,"  he  explained  slowly,  relishing  their  impatience 
of  his  drawl,  "and  when  you  see  him  you  will  also  see 
the  wickedest  aristocrat  that  we  have  left  in  France. 
Many  a  pretty  bird  he's  netted,  that  same  gentleman, 
and  now  he  has  her  in  his  toils,  the  prettiest  of  them  all. 

"Yes,  she  went  off  in  his  carriage,  scarcely  an  hour 
ago.  But  he  set  out  on  foot,  to  save  scandal !  As  if  any 
fresh  scandal  would  affect  his  reputation ! 

"That  is  the  clue  you  have  paid  for,  messieurs,  and 
cheap  at  the  price,  as  you  will  find  if  you  follow  it  up. 
I  may  add,  for  your  edification,  that  mademoiselle  wears 
no  rings." 

He  winked  waggishly  at  the  tall,  fair  man,  with  quite 
unexpected  results.  For  that  individual  suddenly 
picked  him  up  by  the  seat  of  his  trousers  and  his  coat 
collar,  and  cast  him  untenderly  into  his  littered  den 
underneath  the  stairs.  The  door  was  shut  upon  Andre 
and  his  anguished  outcry,  the  key  turned  in  the  lock 
and  withdrawn.  His  assailant  pocketed  it,  and  then  de- 
parted wth  the  dark,  black-bearded  man,  who  had 
looked  on  unmoved. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BLACK  DIRCK  ADOPTS  STRONG  MEASURES 

"Well?"  Arendsen  asked,  in  no  pleasant  tone,  as 
Seager  and  he  set  off  at  a  smart  pace  down  the  street. 
He  had  not  understood  much  of  the  conver- 
sation which  had  taken  place,  but  inferred  from  that 
worthy's  treatment  of  the  over-voluble  Andre  that  their 
visit  had  been  in  vain,  that  the  girl  had  again  eluded 
them. 

He  and  his  ally  had  also  made  most  assiduous  search 
for  her  since  they  had  left  the  Hotel  du  Palais.  They 
had  secured  convenient  quarters  on  the  Isle  de  la  Cite, 
and  then  scoured  Paris,  systematically,  but  without  re- 
sult until  that  afternoon,  when  he  had  suddenly  been 
inspired  to  call  by  himself  for  the  two  old  maids  in  the 
Avenue  Marceau,  to  see  what  he  could  find  out  from 
them  on  his  own  account.  There  were  only  three  days 
left  in  which  to  win  or  lose  the  enormous  stake  for 
which  he  was  now  prepared  to  back  Seager  to  a  finish. 
Great  had  been  his  elation,  therefore,  when  he  had  met 
the  girl  herself  leaving  the  Misses  Winters'. 

He  had  cursed  bitterly  afterwards,  in  the  first  place 
because  he  had  not  taken  his  accomplice  with  him,  and 
then  because  he  had  not  trusted  her  to  tell  the  truth 
•when  she  had  at  length  and  with  unfeigned  reluctance 
given  him  her  address  for  her  over-affectionate  cousin. 
Had  he  not  wasted  time  in  tracking  her  thereto,  he 

207 


208  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

might  still  have  got  Seager  to  the  spot  in  time  to  inter- 
cept her.  As  it  was,  it  had  cost  him  so  long  to  dis- 
cover that  untrustworthy  wanderer,  that  she  had  es- 
caped them  again  in  the  interim.  It  was  very  galling  to 
have  been  so  near  success,  to  be  once  more  baffled. 

"Well?"  he  asked  wrathfully.  "What's  doing?  Did 
you  find  out " 

"She's  gone  off  with  the  Due  des  Reves,"  snapped 
Seager,  his  voice  no  less  vicious.  "I  don't  suppose  she 
knows  that  he's  one  of  the  greatest  scoundrels  unhung. 
I'm  going  to  get  her  back  from  him,  and,  if  he'll  only 
stand  up  to  me,  I'll  break  his  noble  neck  with  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure.  Here's  a  cab.  Yes,  I  know  where 
we're  going.  Don't  you  interfere." 

Than  that,  Arendsen  could  get  no  more  out  of  him, 
but  was  content  in  seeing  him  thus  spurred  to  action. 
Lately,  and  fretting  under  repeated  failure,  he  had 
been  drinking  a  good  deal  again,  was  in  too  dangerous 
a  mood  to  stand  nagging.  Silence  obtained  between 
them  during  the  long  drive  from  the  Rue  des  Trois 
Freres  to  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain.  Seager  knew 
that  the  Due  des  Reves  had  his  hotel  somewhere  with- 
in the  city,  and  meant  to  seek  him  out  there.  The 
cabby  could  be  trusted  to  take  them  to  it. 

He  did  so,  and  would  have  turned  into  the  carriage 
entrance  of  the  great  mansion  on  the  Boulevard  but 
that  two  stalwart  men  in  the  ducal  livery  sprang  for- 
ward and  seized  the  horse's  head. 

"Is  this  the  place?"  Seager  asked,  and  jumped  out. 
"Pay  the  cab  off,  Arendsen,"  he  ordered,  over  his 
shoulder,  and  walked  up  to  the  nearest  gate-keeper. 

"I  want  to  see  the  Due  des  Reves,"  he  said  abruptly. 

A   more   conciliatory  manner  would   probably  have 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  209 

evoked  a  pleasanter  reply.  He  would  have  been  in- 
formed that  M.  le  Due  might  be  found  at  his  town  ad- 
dress, in  the  Rue  St.  Honore.  As  it  was  the  man  re- 
sponded with  equal  brevity. 

"That  is  impossible." 

"Then  it  must  be  made  possible,"  Seager  insisted 
hotly.  "I've  come  here  to  see  him,  and  see  him  I  will." 

"You  are  welcome  to  wait." 

Meantime  Arendsen  had  dismissed  the  cab  and  con- 
fronted the  other  official,  with  whom  he  exchanged  a 
few  words  in  such  French  as  he  could  command. 

"Don't  lose  your  rag!"  he  called  over  to  his  com- 
panion. "The  Due's  not  at  home.  It's  not  him  we 
want,  anyway." 

It  did  not  soothe  Seager  to  think  he  had  been  made 
a  fool  of  by  a  mere  lackey.  But  he  gulped  his  anger 
down  for  the  time  being. 

"If  the  Due  isn't  in,"  he  said  more  smoothly,  "I'll 
see  Miss  Lorraine." 

"That  is  also  impossible,  said  the  man  stubbornly, 
but  his  companion  was  more  politic. 

"There  is  no  such  person  here,"  he  asserted. 

Their  joint  reply  enraged  Seager  beyond  measure. 

"Stand  aside,"  he  commanded,  and  made  as  if  he 
would  have  pushed  past  between  them,  ignoring  all 
Arendsen's  cautions. 

The  gate-keepers  had  been  instructed  that  no  one 
should  enter  except  by  express  permission  of  the 
Duchesse.  They  did  not  hesitate  to  withstand  this  ir- 
ritable, overbearing  foreigner.  He  struck  at  one  and  a 
fracas  began  which  ended  in  his  being  ignominiously 
ejected,  while  Arendsen  once  more  looked  on  inac- 
tively, not  thinking  it  worth  his  while  to  interfere  fur- 


210  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

ther.  Then  the  great  gates  were  rolled  into  place  and 
their  two  guardians  disappeared  within  the  gate-lodge 
to  rid  themselves  of  the  traces  of  conflict. 

Arendsen  went  across  to  the  gutter  in  which  their 
aggressor  was  lying,  half  stunned,  and,  having  first 
revived  him  by  the  old  deep-sea  method  of  biting  one 
of  his  thumbs  savagely,  got  him  on  to  his  feet  again. 
When  Seager  recovered  his  senses  he  would  forthwith 
have  besieged  the  hotel  des  Reves,  but  his  confederate 
at  last  succeeded  in  restraining  him  from  such  im- 
mediate folly,  and  they  were  still  swearing  hoarsely  at 
one  another  when  there  stepped  forward  from  the 
shadow  of  a  near  tree  a  stout,  sharp-featured  individual 
who  made  some  essay  to  soothe  them. 

"Monsieur  has  been  outrageously  maltreated,"  he 
said  in  French  to  Seager.  "Did  I  hear  rightly  that  he 
asked  for  Mdlle.  Lorraine?" 

"Who  the  devil  are  you?"  asked  his  protege,  much 
astonished  by  his  unexpected  appearance  and  not  at  all 
appreciating  his  sympathy.  "What  business  is  it  of 
yours  who  I  asked  for?" 

"I  might  prove  a  friend,  if  Monsieur  would  only  per- 
mit me,"  the  unknown  protested  smoothly.  "It  may 
be  that  I  can  serve  Monsieur.  My  name  is  Chevrel, 
Jules  Chevrel.  I  was  formerly  in  the  confidence  of  M. 
le  Due  des  Reves.  I  also  sought  the  honor  of  an  in- 
terview with  Mdlle.  Lorraine,  and  was  turned  away 
with  contumely." 

"You  were,  eh?  Well — "  Seager  looked  him  over 
again — "We'd  better  get  out  of  this.  No  use  of  butting 
against  stone  walls.  Join  me  in  a  brandy-and-soda,  and 
we'll  have  a  chat.  We  may  be  able  to  do  something  for 
each  other. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  211 

"Come  on,  Arendsen.  I  know  a  poison-dispensary 
not  many  blocks  from  here,  and  I  want  a  wash-down 
badly." 

He  spoke  peremptorily,  and  the  others  followed  him 
without  demur.  A  few  minutes  later  the  gates  of  the 
hotel  des  Reves  were  thrown  wide  open  again. 

A  short  walk  took  the  three  conspirators  into  the 
Quartier  Latin,  to  a  blind  alley  known  as  the  Impasse 
de  Paradis,  where  Seager  ushered  them  into  a  modest 
brasserie  bearing  the  no  less  curious  cognomen  of  the 
Blue  Rabbit.  The  grey-haired  host  of  that  retiring  es- 
tablishment did  not  seem  overjoyed  to  see  him,  but  said 
no  word  of  good  or  bad,  even  when  Jie  tossed  a  ten- 
franc  piece  on  the  pewter  counter  and  passed  through 
to  an  interior  and  still  more  private  apartment. 

The  Brasserie  of  the  Blue  Rabbit  was  but  sparsely 
patronized  at  that  hour  and  they  found  its  sanctum 
quite  empty.  There  they  installed  themselves  at  a  cor- 
ner table,  and,  having  given  a  sleepy  waiter  an  order 
for  absinthe,  and  brandy,  and  beer,  tried  some  prelim- 
inary tricks  of  fence  until  it  was  quite  clear  to  all  that 
all  were  rogues,  without  a  scruple  among  them.  Then 
the  glasses  were  replenished,  at  Seager's  order,  and 
they  began  to  talk  business. 

"Look  you,  gentlemen,"  said  Jules  Chevrel,  after  he 
had  swallowed  the  greater  portion  of  the  opalescent 
liquor  the  waiter  had  just  brought  him,  an  example 
which  Seager  was  prompt  to  follow,  "I  have  a  plan.  If 
you  will  pay  for  it  you  may  have  an  interview  with  the 
lady  to-night.  But  in  calculating  the  payment,  you 
must  remember  two  points.  These  are,  first,  the  sac- 
rifice of  my  own  interests,  to  further  yours,  and  then  the 
fact  that  this  may  be  the  last  chance  you  or  I  will  have. 


212  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

To-morrow  she  may  be  on  her  way  to  La  Roche-Segur, 
or  the  Chateau  des  Reves,  or  London,  or  Rome,  or 
Vienna.  Monsieur  my  late  employer  is  a  man  of  many 
strange  caprices.  There  is  but  this  one  opportunity  to 
be  counted  upon,  and  I  value  it  very  highly." 

"Put  a  price  on  it,"  Seager  retorted  bluntly.  "If 
that's  not  too  steep,  and  the  plan's  all  right,  we  can 
probably  do  a  deal." 

Arendsen  looked  extremely  uncomfortable  while 
Jules  Chevrel  was  making  a  quick  mental  calculation. 
Seager's  cavalier  method  of  discussing  money  matters 
irked  him  more  than  a  little.  The  Frenchman  gath- 
ered from  his  sullen  scowl  that  it  must  be  he  who  held 
the  key  of  their  treasury. 

The  worthy  Jules  had  amassed  a  modest  fortune  of 
some  ninety  thousand  francs,  including  the  five  thou- 
sand of  which  he  had  mulcted  Madame  la  Duchesse  in 
New  York,  during  the  few  years  which  had  elapsed 
since  he  first  entered  Monsieur's  service,  and  it  was 
his  present  ambition  to  increase  that  sum  to  six  figures, 
when  he  would  at  once  discharge  himself  without  warn- 
ing. To  that  end  he  had  intended  to  extort  ten  thou- 
sand more  from  Madame,  under  threat  that  he  would 
otherwise  feel  it  his  duty  to  tell  the  Due  how  she  had 
spent  one  afternoon  in  New  York  and  dined  at  Mar- 
tin's with  her  husband's  valet.  Either  she  or  Mon- 
sieur himself,  to  whom  he  already  referred  as  his  late 
employer,  must  pay  to  suppress  that  story.  But  he 
had  been  foiled  in  his  effort  to  get  speech  with  the 
Duchesse,  and — Monsieur  might  prove  dangerous. 

Meantime  here  were  two  providential  Americans,  no 
doubt  wealthy,  who  did  not  seem  to  know  that  this 
Miss  Lorraine  in  whom  they  were  so  deeply  interested 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  213 

was  really  the  Duchesse  des  Reves.  And  he  certainly 
had  no  object  in  undeceiving  them.  If  they  would 
pay  him  the  ten  thousand  francs  he  required  from  some 
quarter  or  other  and  no  matter  how,  it  would  be  a 
simple  matter  to  give  up  in  their  favor  his  further  plan 
for  interviewing  Madame.  It  would  do  her  no  harm 
to  meet  two  of  her  countrymen  for  half  an  hour,  and 
they  would  bear  in  his  place  the  brunt  of  any  resultant 
unpleasantness.  He  abruptly  opened  negotiations  at 
fifteen  thousand  francs. 

Arendsen  almost  cried  out  in  horror,  but  Seager  laid 
a  restraining  hand  on  his  arm  and  nodded  sagaciously. 
From  his  point  of  view  three  thousand  dollars  was  an 
altogether  infinitesimal  sum  compared  with  what  it 
would  bring  them.  And  his  brain,  simulated  by  the 
brandy  he  had  imbibed,  was  busy  now.  He  had  already 
conceived  a  scheme  which  must  make  success  quite 
certain,  if  they  could  but  reach  the  girl. 

"Spit  out  the  plan,"  he  commanded,  and  Jules  Chev- 
rel  could  have  gnashed  his  teeth  for  that  he  had  not 
asked  more,  while  Arendsen  only  contained  himself 
with  a  visible  effort  and  in  response  to  a  warning  pres- 
sure from  his  accomplice. 

"If  it's  a  sound  one,"  he  commanded,  "I'll  tack  on  a 
bonus  of  the  same  amount.  So  that  you'll  stand  in 
with  us  to  the  tune  of  thirty  thousand  francs.  There's 
nothing  mean  about  poor  old  Dom — Stephen  Quaint- 
ance." 

He  coughed,  and  stared  fixedly  at  the  Frenchman. 

Jules  Chevrel  leaned  across  the  marble-topped  table, 
and  spoke  in  a  low,  rapid  voice. 

"To-night,"  he  explained,  "she  will  go  to  the  Elysee. 
There  is  a  soiree  at  the  palace  to  which  the  Due  has 


214  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

promised  to  take  her.  She  will  drive  there  alone  in  her 
carriage,  and  it  will  return  to  the  hotel. 

"Now,  mark.  Although  I  was  turned  away  from 
its  gates  just  now,  I  have  friends  within.  The  head- 
coachman  is  one.  He  has  only  a  single  match-pair  in 
his  stable  at  present,  since  Monsieur  has  been  abroad 
for  some  time,  and  one  of  them  will  fall  sick  at  a  late 
hour.  In  despair  he  will  telephone  Monsieur's  garage 
to  send  an  automobile  to  the  palace  in  place  of  the  car- 
riage. The  chauffeur  will  be  well  out  of  the  way,  but — 
I  shall  be  there  at  the  time.  And  ready,  as  I  always 
am,  to  oblige  a  friend. 

"Can  you  handle  an  automobile  ?" 

Seager  nodded  again,  and  rose  from  the  table. 

"I  think  we  can  make  a  deal  of  it,"  he  remarked  with 
brisk  complacence.  "You  will  excuse  us  for  ten  min- 
utes, M.  Chevrel?  No,  we're  not  gong  to  beat  it — it 
would  be  easy  to  get  up  and  go,  if  we  wished — and  I 
want  you  to  wait  here  till  we  return." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  Jules  Chevrel  assured  him  with 
bland  untruthfulness.  "I  shall  wait  fifteen — no,  twenty 
minutes  for  you,  until  eight  o'clock.  You  will  be  back 
by  then.  I  must  leave  you  in  time  to  see  the  carriage 
start  from  the  hotel  des  Reves,  so  that  I  may  be  sure 
she  goes  with  it." 

Arendsen  was  so  overcome  by  his  feelings  that  he 
could  scarce  speak  when  they  reached  the  street,  but 
Seager  was  jubilant. 

"Don't  lose  your  wool,"  he  advised,  and  dragged 
his  confederate  hurriedly  down  the  Impasse  de  Para- 
dis,  toward  its  blind  end. 

"Never  mind  about  the  money  just  now.  I've  got 
the  whole  thing  mapped  out  to  a  finish  and  you'll  get 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  215 

ft  back  with  good  interest.  No,  I'm  not  robbing  you. 
Damn  it,  man !  you  must  sow  before  you  can  reap." 

At  the  darkest  corner  of  the  dark  Impasse  he  stopped 
before  an  almost  invisible  postern,  and  after  much 
hasty  fumbling  produced  from  his  pockets  a  key  with 
which  he  opened  that.  Arendsen  followed  him,  still 
muttering,  into  a  passage  black  as  the  pit,  and,  after 
Seager  had  closed  the  door  carefully,  he  caught  at  his 
confederate's  sleeve,  leading  him  forward  with  assured 
footsteps. 

They  passed  through  other  unbolted  doors,  crossed 
a  wooden  floor  and  climbed  many  flights  of  stairs,  but 
no  more  was  said  till  they  stopped  at  the  top  in  a  dim 
and  shadowy  space  under  a  huge  skylight. 

"This  is  the  hotel  de  Seager  and  Quaintance,"  said 
Seager,  grinning,  as  he  struck  a  match  and  lit  a  couple 
of  candles  on  a  shelf  behind  the  door.  Arendsen  looked 
round  blinkingly,  and  saw  that  they  were  in  a  dusty 
and  untenanted  but  comfortably  furnished  studio.  And, 
before  he  could  ask  any  questions,  the  other  went  on, 

"I  lived  here  for  nearly  a  week  when  my  money  went 
done.  It's  an  empty  house,  and  hasn't  been  let  for 
years,  so  that  it  was  easy  to  get  the  keys  to  inspect  it 
and  have  a  skeleton  made  before  I  returned  them.  This 
room's  as  safe  as  a  padded  cell.  The  buildings  all  round 
are  warehouses  and  deposits.  We're  a  couple  of  stories 
above  the  highest  of  them.  Once  we  get  her  upstairs 
our  troubles  are  at  an  end,  and  we're  going  to  get  her 
upstairs  to-night  even  if  it  does  cost  us  three  thousand 
dollars.  Now,  do  you  understand?" 

Arendsen  glanced  quickly  about  him  again.  There 
was  no  possibility  of  escape  through  the  skylight.  It 
was  too  lofty.  The  windowless  walls  were  solid,  the 


2i6  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

door  was  sufficiently  massive  and  there  was  a  second 
door  standing  open  between  them  and  the  top  of  the 
stairs.  The  place  had  been  planned  to  ensure  seclusion 
from  the  outer  world,  and  they  could  have  found  none 
more  perfectly  suited  to  their  requirements. 

"The  front  door  opens  on  to  a  lane  past  the  ware- 
houses," Seager  stated,  "but  it  will  be  safer  to  bring  her 
in  by  the  back.  Come  on,  Arendsen.  We'll  get  back 
to  our  rat-faced  friend,  and  fix  things  so  that  your  three 
thousand  dollars  will  be  well  secured.  I'm  not  the  sort 
of  fellow  to  throw  money  around  recklessly,  and  by  to- 
morrow night  we'll  both  be  millionaires !" 

He  laughed  aloud,  and  Arendsen  started  nervously 
at  the  low,  eerie  echo  which  died  away  through  the  de- 
serted dwelling. 

"It's  all  right,"  Seager  assured  him  and  blew  out  the 
candles.  "I  know  the  old  shack  from  cellar  to  roof- 
tree,  and  you  might  shout  long  enough  before  you'd 
be  heard. 

"You  left  me  plenty  of  time  to  explore  it,"  he  added 
morosely.  "I  might  have  been  a  ghost  at  this  moment 
for  all  you " 

"Oh,  never  mind  about  that,"  retorted  the  other. 
"I'm  paying  a  cruel  price  now  to  help  you  through,  and 
— look  here,  you  must  cut  the  drink  out  till  the  whole 
business  is  safely  settled.  I  won't  sink  a  cent  more 
in  it  unless  you'll  swear  to  keep  sober." 

They  were  still  wrangling  on  this  sore  subject  when 
they  got  back  to  the  brasserie,  where  they  found  Jules 
Chevrel  awaiting  them,  outwardly  most  indifferent,  but 
in  his  heart  surprised  to  see  them  again.  Seager  re- 
fused his  offer  of  further  refreshment,  and  curtly  in- 
formed him  that  they  had  decided  to  close  with  his  offer. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  217 

It  was  quickly  arranged  that  they  should  present  them- 
selves at  M.  le  Due's  garage  shortly  before  eleven, 
and  he  went  his  way  well  satisfied. 

They  spent  the  intervening  hours  in  making  such 
provision  as  seemed  good  to  them  for  the  well-being 
of  their  prospective  prisoner,  and,  Seager  having  slaked 
with  a  bottle  of  English  soda,  a  consuming  thirst  caused 
by  his  journeys  between  the  house  and  the  stores  he 
had  visited,  they  crossed  the  river  again  about  ten, 
reaching  the  Rue  St.  Honore  before  the  time  ap- 
pointed. 

It  turned  out  to  be  just  as  well  that  they  had,  for  an 
unexpected  complication  had  cropped  up.  Jules  Chev- 
rel's  friend,  the  coachman,  had  telephoned  that  the  car 
must  call  at  the  hotel  des  Reves  for  a  maid  who  was  to 
escort  her  mistress  from  the  Elysee,  and  he  did  not 
know  how  that  would  affect  the  bargain  he  had  made 
with  the  Americans. 

It  was  Arendsen  who,  in  the  end,  reassured  him  on 
that  point,  gave  him  a  cheque  for  three  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  sent  him  out  with  Seager  to  have  the  latter 
properly  dressed  for  his  part.  When  they  returned 
he  drew  his  accomplice  aside  while  Chevrel  was  occu- 
pied with  the  car. 

"Bring  the  maid  straight  to  the  back  door,"  he  whis- 
pered. "Tell  her  you're  going  to  cross  by  the  Pont 
Neuf,  if  she  asks  questions.  I'll  be  waiting  there. 
Leave  the  rest  to  me." 

"Right,"  said  Seager  briefly,  and  the  other  hurried 
away. 

Some  twenty  minutes  before  midnight  the  scarlet 
limousine  turned  into  the  courtyard  of  the  hotel  des 
Reves  and,  having  halted  at  a  pillared  portico,  stood 


218  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

there  throbbing  impatiently  until  Fanchette  appeared. 
The  door  of  the  closed  carriage-body  was  at  the  back, 
and  she  climbed  in  at  once.  Seager  set  out  with  her 
toward  the  Pont  Neuf  and  then  turned  to  the  right, 
following  the  less  frequented  lanes  of  the  Quartier  un- 
til he  reached  the  Impasse  de  Paradis,  where  he  drew 
up  within  an  inch  of  the  blind  wall  at  its  dark  end. 

Scarcely  had  the  wheels  ceased  to  revolve  when 
Arendsen,  who  had  been  anxiously  awaiting  it,  sprang 
in  beside  Fanchette  as  she  came  toward  the  door  in 
surprise  at  the  stoppage.  He  had  thrown  a  blanket 
about  her  head  and  shoulders  before  she  could  utter  a 
sound,  and  although  she  fought  desperately  to  free  her- 
self, it  was  in  vain,  for  Seager  had  come  to  the  other's 
assistance.  They  carried  her  indoors,  and  by  the  time 
they  got  her  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  she  had  ceased  to 
struggle. 

"Show  a  light,"  Arendsen  ordered  breathlessly,  and, 
as  the  other  struck  a  match,  he  stooped  over  her,  with- 
drawing the  blanket  and  her  long  grey  cloak. 

"She's  safe,"  he  muttered,  staring  into  the  white, 
\vrinkled  face,  and  Seager  sniffed. 

"Chloroform !"  he  commented  indifferently,  and 
kicked  the  blanket  to  one  side.  "You're  taking  strong 
measures  now,  Arendsen." 

When  they  came  down  stairs  again,  having  left  her 
unconscious,  safely  locked  up  in  the  studio,  Arendsen 
had  a  grey  shawl  in  one  hand  and  he  picked  her  cloak 
up  in  passing. 

No  one  seemed  to  have  noticed  the  car  standing 
there  in  the  shadow.  He  entered  it,  after  a  last  look  at 
the  gaunt,  black  building  behind  him,  and  Seager  drove 
him  at  decorous  speed  toward  the  Elysee. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   GROOM   OF  THE  GATEWAY   IS  MUCH  AGGRIEVED   BY 
THE  SCARLET  AUTO 

"Cinquante-deux"  said  the  groom  of  the  gateway, 
scanning  the  card  brought  him  by  one  of  his  satellites 
from  the  ladies'  cloak  room.  "Number  fifty-two, 
Madame  la  Duchesse  des  Reves,  a  carriage  and  pair. 

"Is  Madame  la  Duchesse  on  the  way?" 

"She  was  cloaked  and  bidding  good-bye  to  the  Due 
when  she  gave  me  her  ticket,"  responded  the  under- 
ling, and  his  superior  turned  in  haste  to  the  quadruple 
rank  of  vehicles  carefully  parked  where  he  could  com- 
mand them. 

"Cinquante-deux,"  he  cried,  in  his  most  imposing  and 
sonorous  voice.  The  order  was  taken  up  and  repeated 
at  regular  intervals  along  the  lines. 

"Cinquante-deux.    Numero  cinquante-deux." 

The  groom  of  the  gateway  was  very  proud  of  his  per- 
fect system. 

Great  was  his  wrath,  therefore,  when,  in  place  of  the 
carriage  and  pair  which  should  have  appeared  at  his 
word,  a  dashing  scarlet  automobile  sped  forward  from 
among  the  array  of  twinkling  lamps  and  stopped  at  the 
steps  even  as  Madame  la  Duchesse  came  down  the  long 
corridor.  He  darted  toward  the  luckless  chauffeur 
who  was  driving  it. 

"Imbecile!"  he  hissed  between  set  teeth.  "Didst  thou 

219 


220  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

not  hear  the  instruction  I  gave,  'Number  fifty-two'! 
Hast  not  thou  eyes  to  read  the  distinct  numerals  on  thy 
plainly  printed  card  of  exit!" 

"Tais-toi  done,  vieux  gros"  growled  the  man  thus  be- 
rated, and  thrust  before  him  a  pasteboard  bearing  the 
ciphers  in  question. 

"The  car  has  been  sent  for  Madame  in  place  of  the 
carriage." 

The  groom  of  the  gateway  glared  at  him,  but  there 
was  no  time  to  vent  his  displeasure  on  the  insolent  me- 
chanic. The  Duchesse  was  coming  down  the  steps  and 
there  was  a  party  behind  her  for  whom  he  had  not  yet 
called  forward  any  conveyance.  He  sprang  ponder- 
ously to  the  door  at  the  back  of  the  automobile,  opened 
it  and  stood  bowing  beside  it  that  Madame  la  Duchesse 
might  step  in  speedily  and  yet  under  all  ceremony, 
closed  it  deftly  behind  her  and  uttered  the  one  word, 
"Forward !"  in  a  tone  of  thunder.  Then  he  hurried 
back  to  where  the  others  were  waiting,  still  swearing 
under  his  breath  at  the  scarlet  auto  which  had  thus  an- 
noyingly  interfered  with  the  smooth  working  of  his 
system.  He  would  soon  lose  his  reputation  if  M.  le 
President's  guests  were  to  be  kept  standing  on  the 
steps  of  the  palace,  even  though  it  were  through  no 
fault  of  his. 

And  meantime  the  object  of  his  anathema  was  mak- 
ing for  the  Pont  de  la  Concorde,  ostensibly  on  its  way 
to  the  Boulevard  St.  Germain. 

The  Duchesse  des  Reves  had  taken  no  notice  of  the 
change  of  vehicle,  and,  if  she  had,  would  have  thought 
it  but  sensible  to  have  a  car  out  at  that  late  hour  in 
place  of  a  pair  of  horses.  Her  mind  was  still  preoccu- 
pied with  the  events  of  the  evening  as  she  stepped 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  221 

lightly  in  and  sat  down,  somewhat  wearily,  beside  Fan- 
chette — who  had  faced  about  and  was  fumbling  with  a 
drawn  blind.  And  neither  had  anything  to  say  until, 
as  the  car  moved  forward,  the  Duchesse  suddenly  felt 
a  vise-like  arm  thrown  about  her,  a  cloth  was  clapped 
to  her  lips  so  that  she  could  not  utter  a  sound 

When  she  opened  her  eyes  again  Fanchette  was 
bending  over  her,  with  a  white,  horrified  face. 

"What  has  happened,  Fanchette?"  she  asked 
brokenly,  conscious  of  an  overpowering  languor,  a  sick 
sensation  of  helplessness.  She  was  lying  on  a  low 
couch,  in  a  room  she  could  not  recognize,  and  when 
she  tried  to  raise  herself  that  she  might  look  about  her 
she  had  not  the  strength.  At  the  sound  of  her  voice, 
Fanchette's  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  thankfulness. 

"Oh,  ma'mselle !"  cried  the  woman,  her  mind  divided 
between  relief  and  despair,  still  using  the  old,  familiar 
form  of  address  although  her  young  mistress  now  wore 
a  wedding-ring  openly. 

"Oh,  ma'mselle !  It  is  that  we  have  been  kidnapped. 
First  I,  then  you.  I  do  not  know  for  what  purpose,  nor 
where  we  are.  .They  brought  me  here  instead  of  to  the 
Elysee,  in  M.  le  Due's  own  auto.  They  drugged  me 
also,  but  I  had  partly  recovered  before  they  carried  you 
in,  and — I  was  afraid  you  would  not.  Oh,  ma'mselle! 
what  shall  we " 

"Help  me  to  sit  up,"  the  Duchesse  requested,  the 
clouds  clearing  from  her  brain  under  the  shock  of  such 
strange  intelligence,  and,  as  her  maid  heaped  cushions 
around  her,  she  stared  about  her  at  her  surroundings. 

The  chamber  which,  if  what  Fanchette  said  were 
correct,  was  their  prison,  was  an  old-fashioned  studio 
with  faded  furnishings.  It  looked  very  gloomy  then, 


222 

with  only  the  light  of  a  single  lamp  set  on  a  rosewood 
table  beside  her,  but  a  lofty  skylight  showed  that  it 
would  not  be  dark  in  the  daytime.  The  walls  were  bare, 
broken  by  but  one  door  without  bolt  or  handle,  and 
that  was  closed.  She  could  hear  a  clock  ticking. 

"How  long  have  I  been  here?"  she  questioned,  striv- 
ing to  speak  confidently,  but  her  tones  trembled  in 
spite  of  herself. 

"Not  yet  twenty  minutes,  ma'mselle,"  Fanchette  an- 
swered. 

"One  of  them  wore  your  cloak  in  the  car,"  said  the 
Duchesse  as  recollection  came  slowly  back  to  her.  "He 
seized  me,  and — I  could  not  cry  out." 

"Because  of  the  chloroform,"  said  Fanchette. 

"Help  me  to  my  feet,"  begged  her  mistress,  and, 
when  she  had  risen,  stood  for  a  moment  swaying  un- 
steadily. 

"Water,"  she  whispered,  and  drank  thirstily  when 
that  was  brought  her. 

She  took  a  turn  or  two  round  the  room,  leaning  heav- 
ily on  Fanchette's  arm,  scanning  every  corner.  Soft 
footsteps  sounded  without:  some  one  knocked  at  the 
door.  They  shrank  back  behind  the  table,  but  the 
Duchesse  curbed  her  alarm  sufficiently  to  answer, 
"Entrez."  It  would  be  well  to  learn  the  worst  at  once. 
She  only  regretted  that  she  had  so  lately  abandoned 
her  habit  of  carrying  arms.  But  she  had  thought  that 
her  troubles  were  all  at  an  end  when  she  had  accepted 
her  husband's  protection  and  the  streets  of  Paris  were 
not  like  the  lonely  roads  on  Long  Island. 

The  door  opened  slowly,  and  Dirck  Arendsen  ap- 
peared on  the  threshold.  He  looked  relieved  at  sight 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  223 

of  the  two  women  standing  there,  and  spoke  with  a 
smooth  geniality. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  well,  Miss  Lorraine/' 
he  said,  ignoring  all  that  had  gone  before,  and  meet- 
ing her  stormily  anxious  eyes  with  a  bluff  affectation  of 
openness.  "I've  been  looking  forward  to  introducing 
your  cousin  to  you — here  he  is.  Stephen,  this  is  Miss 
Dagmar  Lorraine,  of  whom  you  have  spoken  to  me. 
It's  a  great  privilege  to  be  the  means  of  bringing  you 
two  together." 

He  motioned  his  confederate  forward,  and  Seager 
entered  jauntily,  striding  up  to  her  with  outstretched 
hand,  his  coarsely  handsome  features  lit  up  by  what 
he  meant  to  be  a  frank  smile. 

"This  is  a  pleasure  I've  long  looked  forward  to,"  he 
said  with  florid  effusion.  "It  would  have  saved  us 
a  whole  peck  of  trouble  if  I'd  only  known,  the  last  time 
I  met  you,  that  you  were  Miles  Quaintance's  daugh- 
ter." 

He  stopped,  confronting  her  where  she  stood  beside 
Fanchette,  both  hands  behind  her,  her  head  back,  look- 
ing him  over  with  a  disconcerting  air  of  detachment 
which  presently  deepened  into  contempt  as  his  glance 
fell  before  hers :  and  his  face  darkened  visibly.  She  had 
recognized  him  at  once  as  the  man  she  had  met  on  her 
long  night-journey  from  New  York  to  Stormport.  His 
methods  of  dealing  with  women  were  quite  on  a  par 
with  those  of  Miles  Quaintance,  his  uncle. 

"I  am  not  Miles  Quaintance's  daughter,"  she  an- 
swered distinctly.  "My  father's  name  was  Lorraine." 

"Yes,  yes:  I  know  all  about  that,"  he  assented  with 
sudden  impatience,  "and  you  know  well  enough  too 
\vhat  I  mean.  The  main  point  is  that  I'm  Stephen 


224  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

Quaintance,  and — send  that  old  woman  outside  while 
-we  talk  things  over.  Arendsen,  you  can  look  after 
her." 

For  all  answer  she  put  an  arm  through  Fanchette's, 
and  Arendsen  did  not  think  fit  to  interfere.  He  wanted 
to  hear  for  himself  what  arrangement  was  come  to  be- 
tween those  two,  and  he  was  not  greatly  pleased  with 
these  preliminaries. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  Seager  remarked.  "Have  it  your 
own  way.  I've  nothing  to  say  that  I  need  be  ashamed 
of,  and  all  I  desired  was  to  spare  your  blushes.  I  sup- 
pose you  can  guess  what  I've  got  to  tell  you?" 

He  once  more  assumed  his  smile,  but  she  shook  her 
head. 

"Come,  come !"  he  protested.  "You  know  that  you 
and  I  have  common  interests  under  my  uncle's  will, 
•don't  you?  And  on  what  condition?  I've  taken  a  lot 
of  trouble  to  help  you  to  your  fair  share  of  ten  mil- 
lion dollars,  and — I  must  say  I  don't  think  you're  treat- 
ing me  very  handsomely  in  return.  Sit  down,  and  act 
sensibly.  Don't  stand  on  so  much  ceremony.  I'm 
not  a  bad  sort  of  chap,  as  you'll  find  out  in  time,  but 
you  mustn't  rub  me  the  wrong  way  too  much  or  I'll 
scratch." 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  pulled  a  cigarette- 
case  out  of  his  pocket,  and  struck  a  match. 

"Sit  down,  and  act  sensibly,"  he  repeated  between 
puffs,  but  she  remained  as  she  was,  very  lovely  in  her 
disdain,  and  he  looked  up  again  with  a  scowl  which 
changed  to  an  appreciative  leer.  Arendsen  was  still 
standing  sentry  beside  the  closed  door.  He  did  not 
•doubt  the  ultimate  outcome  of  the  interview,  and  only 
wished  that  he  had  been  Seager.  Fanchette  had  one  of 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  225 

the  girl's  hands  fast  in  her  own,  had  subdued  her  own 
fears  for  the  sake  of  her  mistress.  Neither  yet  quite 
understood  the  motive  for  their  abduction,  but  that  was 
made  thoroughly  clear,  to  the  Duchesse  at  least,  by  her 
so-called  cousin's  ensuing  remark. 

"We've  only  twenty-four  hours  left  to  get  married 
in,"  he  said  sullenly,  "and  we  might  just  as  well  carry 
the  thing  through  on  a  friendly  footing.  I  want — 

"I  don't  think  you  can  be  aware,  Mr.  Quaintance," 
she  interrupted,  "that  I  am  the  Duchesse  des  Reves." 

"Oh!  cut  that  out,"  he  cried  harshly.  "You're  not 
fool  enough,  surely,  to  take  that  fellow's  fairy  tales  oa 
trust.  Duchesse  des  Reves !  You're  not  the  first  by  a 
long  chalk  who's  tripped  over  that  limed  twig,  and  I 
wouldn't  have  twitted  you  with  it  either  if  you  had  said 
nothing  about  it.  You  were  Miss  Lorraine  when  you 
left  the  Rue  des  Trois  Freres  a  few  hours  ago,  and 
you're  Miss  Lorraine  still.  There's  more  than  a  ring 
needed  to  make  you  Duchesse  des  Reves.  I  don't 
know  why  women  are  always  so  simple!" 

She  winced  as  though  he  had  struck  her,  and  bent 
her  head  as  she  heard  the  repute  in  which  her  husband 
was  held. 

"Listen,  now,"  he  went  on  more  composedly,  having 
settled  that  point  to  his  own  satisfaction.  "There's  no 
reason  why  you  and  I  shouldn't  pull  together.  Five 
millions  will  more  than  make  up  to  you  for  the  loss 
of  a  title  you'd  never  have  been  allowed  to  wear,  and — 
I'm  not  a  bad  sort  of  chap.  Give  me  a  fair  trial  and  if 
I  don't  suit  you  I'll  quit — honor  bright.  You  can  eas- 
ily get  a  divorce,  or  I'll  disappear  and  send  you  a  death- 
certificate.  You'll  never  see  me  again  after  you  say 


226  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

go.  I  can't  make  you  any  fairer  offer  than  that,  now 
can  I?" 

It  was  very  bitter  to  her  to  have  to  implement  her 
plain  statement,  but  his  blind  disbelief  in  it  was  so  evi- 
dent that,  for  her  own  sake,  she  must  try  to  convince 
him  that  she  spoke  truth,  that  the  dead  man's  millions 
were  neither  for  him  nor  her.  And  she  felt  devoutly 
thankful  then  that  she  had  taken  the  step  she  did  to 
prevent  such  a  contingency  as  that  which  now  pre- 
sented itself.  Of  two  grave  evils  she  had  unwittingly 
chosen  the  lesser.  Miles  Quaintance's  nephew,  the 
man  he  had  never  seen  and  to  whom  he  would  yet 
have  sold  her,  was  worse  in  reality  than  she  had  ever 
imagined  him. 

"Hear  me,  please,  Mr.  Quaintance,"  she  begged,  her 
glance  once  more  meeting  his  so  steadily  that  his  eyes 
dropped  again  in  spite  of  himself,  "and  try  to  believe 
what  I  say.  I  have  no  desire  to  deceive  you.  I  want 
you  to  understand  why  I  married  the  Due  des  Reves." 

He  uttered  an  impatient  ejaculation,  but  she  con- 
tinued quietly. 

"It  was  only  six  months  after  my  education  was  fin- 
ished that  I  heard  of  Mr.  Miles  Quaintance's  death.  I 
was  here,  in  Paris,  then.  He  had  bidden  me  remain 
until  he  could  come  over  and  take  me  back  with  him  to 
San  Francisco.  With  the  news  came  his  letter  explain- 
ing that  he  had  offered  me  to  you  in  marriage.  I 
don't  know  whether  you  can  realize  how  I  felt  about 
that,  but — I  made  up  my  mind  at  that  moment  that  no 
power  on  earth  would  induce  me  to  marry  you.  And, 
to  make  my  resolution  still  safer,  I  married  the  Due 
des  Reves. 

"He  was  a  poor  cavalry  officer  then,  and  I  did  not 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  227 

know  he  would  ever  inherit  a  title.  I  was  little  more 
than  a  school-girl,  and — I  thought  I  cared  for  him. 
That  seemed  sufficient  to  me.  I  left  the  house  in  which 
I  was  living,  ostensibly  to  sail  for  America  but  really  to 
meet  him.  We  were  married  immediately,  and  you  will 
find  record  of  that  fact  in  the  registers  of  the  Ar- 
rondissement  de  1'Elysee  and  at  the  church  of  St.  Yves- 
de-Suresne." 

She  started  back,  said  no  more,  for  Seager  had 
sprung  to  his  feet,  was  glaring  at  her  with  murderous 
malevolence.  Arendsen  had  raised  clenched  hands,  his 
white  teeth  showed  between  his  black  beard  and  mous- 
tache like  those  of  a  wild  beast.  Both  men  were  stirred 
to  a  degree  of  passion  incomprehensible  to  her.  She 
did  not  know  how  utterly  her  simple  words  had  dashed 
hopes  on  which  they  had  been  building  so  assuredly 
that  these  had  come  to  assume  the  shape  of  certainties 
in  their  eyes. 

"You  did  that — on  purpose  to — prevent  me  getting 
my  share  of  the  estate !"  said  Seager  in  a  choked  snarl, 
his  fingers  working.  "You  lined  your  own  nest — and 
shut  me  outside  to  starve!" 

"I  did  what  self-respect  dictated,"  she  answered 
boldly,  anger  against  his  obvious  baseness  lending  her 
courage. 

"Curse  self-respect  of  that  sort!"  he  cried  hotly. 
"You've  robbed  me  of  my  birthright,  that's  what  you've 
done.  Ain't  I  a  better  man  than  the  damned  Due  des 
Reves?  You've  cut  your  own  throat,  to  spite  me, 
that's  what  you've  done.  And  you  know  it  as  well  as 
I  do." 

He  raved  and  raged,  almost  beside  himself,  till 
Arendsen,  less  noisy  if  no  less  dangerous,  came  forward 


228  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

and  roughly  silenced  him.  Fanchette's  eyes  turned 
longingly  to  the  door,  but  he  saw  that  and  dragged  the 
other  toward  it  without  loss  of  time.  Seager  was  too 
bewildered  to  object,  and  presently  the  trembling 
women  heard  the  key  turned  in  the  lock  outside,  the 
outer  door  was  also  made  fast,  and  shuffling  footsteps 
died  away  on  the  stair.  They  threw  themselves  down 
on  the  couch,  and  cried  forlornly  in  each  other's  arms, 
so  heavy  had  the  strain  upon  their  nerves  been. 

Seager  and  Arendsen  fought  their  side  of  the  ques- 
tion out  by  candle-light  in  one  of  the  lower  rooms.  The 
latter  was  less  downcast  than  his  ally  by  the  disclosures 
they  had  listened  to,  and  whose  sincerity  neither  of 
them  could  doubt.  He  had  already  a  fresh  move  to 
counsel,  did  not  despair  entirely  of  late  success.  He 
was  a  more  assiduous  scoundrel  than  his  companion. 

"No,  the  game's  not  up  yet,  you  fool !"  he  inter- 
rupted, after  listening  dearly  for  a  time  to  Seager's 
futile  imprecations. 

"Shut  your  head,  or  talk  sense.  You'll  have  more 
cause  to  yelp  after  it  is  up  and  if  you  fail  to  make  good. 
Don't  forget  who's  staking  you.  Think  less  about 
yourself." 

"What  can  we  do  now?"  asked  the  other  querulously. 
"The  joker's  played  against  us.  We  haven't  a  card 
left." 

Arendsen  tugged  at  his  beard,  and  blinked  at  the 
candle,  frowning.  He  was  counting  the  chances  that 
remained,  and  saw  more  than  one. 

"Why  don't  you  think,  instead  of  talking,"  he  asked 
angrily.  "I'll  give  you  a  start.  What's  to  hinder  us 
finding  out  whether  this  Due  of  hers  won't  stand  in 
with  us.  There  are  ten  millions  to  go  round,  and  most 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  229 

of  those  fellows  would  sell  their  souls  for  a  third  of 
that.  We  might  upset  the  marriage,  get  him  to  disown 
it — there  are  half  a  dozen  cards  left  to  play  if  you'd  only 
get  busy  and  pick  them  out. 

"Now  what  was  she  doing  all  by  herself  in  America, 
eh?  Had  they  separated  already?  There  might  be 
something  in  that !" 

Seager  stared  at  him,  with  the  dawning  of  renewed 
hope  in  his  eyes. 

"Gad,  you're  great,  Dirck,"  he  said.  "We'll  go 
straight  up  and  ask  her.  Then  we'll  tackle  the  Due. 
If  he'd  only  sit  in  with  us,  it  would  be  easy  money  all 
round,  and — come  on.  We'll  go  straight  up  and  ask 
her." 

When  they  knocked  at  the  studio  door  again  no  an- 
swer was  vouchsafed  them,  but  they  found  their  pris- 
oners safe  enough  when  they  entered,  and  both  on  their 
feet,  defiant. 

"I'm  sorry  I  spoke  so — so  sharply  just  now,"  Seager 
said  addressing  himself  to  the  Duchesse,  "and  Mr. 
Arendsen  has  almost  convinced  me  that  you  are  really 
the  Duchesse  des  Reves.  But  what  were  you  doing 
alone  in  America,  so  soon  after  your  wedding,  eh?" 

He  looked  at  her  cunningly,  as  though  that  were  a 
weak  point  in  her  story,  and  she  fell  into  the  trap, 
flushing  painfully  as  she  explained  the  reason  which 
had  led  her  to  leave  her  husband  within  an  hour  of  her 
marriage.  She  was  hopeful  that,  once  they  were  satis- 
fied of  the  validity  of  her  position,  they  would  release 
her  and  give  up  whatever  wild  project  they  had  enter- 
tained. But  in  that  she  was  doomed  to  quick  disap- 
pointment, for  Seager  informed  her  with  much  as- 
sumed sympathy  that  she  must  stay  where  she  was  un- 


230  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

til  he  should  have  absolute  proof  in  support  of  her 
statements,  alleging  solicitude  for  her  welfare  as  his 
moving  impulse. 

"I'll  find  out  everything  about  this  Due  des  Reves 
within  twenty-four  hours,"  he  assured  her,  "and  then,  if 
all's  well,  you'll  go  back  to  him  none  the  worse  of 
knowing  that  he's  treated  you  on  the  square — which  is 
more  than  he's  done  in  a  good  many  cases.  It's  my 
plain  duty  to  see  you  safe  before  I  leave  Paris,  so  you 
needn't  thank  me. 

"Meantime  you'll  be  quite  comfortable  here,  and  we 
shan't  disturb  you  again  till  late  to-morrow.  Nothing 
more  I  can  do  for  you?  Good-night,  then,  and  pleas- 
ant dreams." 

"I  turned  that  rather  neatly,  I  think,"  he  told  Arend- 
sen  as  they  went  back  to  their  own  quarters,  "and,  I'll 
tell  you  what,  Dirck — I  feel  that  I  need  a  quencher. 
I'll  run  round  to  the  Blue  Rabbit  for  one,  and  be  back 
before  you  can " 

"We'll  go  together,"  said  Arendsen  gruffly  and 
knowing  that  it  would  be  vain  to  object.  "And  we 
needn't  come  back  here  to-night.  The  sooner  we 
strike  the  Due's  trail  the  better,  and  he's  sure  to  be  a 
night-bird." 

They  spent  half  an  hour  in  the  brasserie,  and  do 
what  he  would,  he  could  not  prevent  Seager,  whose 
spirits  were  once  more  rising  with  undue  rapidity,  from 
pushing  through  to  the  concert  hall  where  he  claimed 
acquaintance  with  two  young  men  at  one  of  the  tables. 
At  that  moment  also  their  useful  friend  Jules  Chevrel 
looked  in,  and  afflicted  Arendsen  for  ten  long  min- 
utes with  specious  reasons  for  his  presence  there  at 
that  hour.  And  then,  when  he  at  length  got  Seageti 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  231 

quietly  outside,  that  jovial  blade  insisted  on  returning 
to  the  studio  forthwith,  there  to  claim  a  kiss  which,  he 
alleged,  his  cousin  had  owed  him  since  the  occasion  of 
his  first  meeting  with  her.  It  was  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  and  at  the  exercise  of  all  the  patience  on 
which  he  plumed  himself  that  Arendsen  finally  got  his 
fellow-ruffian  to  start  with  him  on  the  trail  of  the  Due 
des  Reves. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE    STRANGE    ENCOUNTER    THAT   TOOK    PLACE    IN    THE 
BRASSERIE  OF  THE  BLUE  RABBIT 

Within  the  grand  reception  room  at  the  Elysee,  in 
the  midst  of  the  brilliant  throng  gathered  there, 
Quaintance  stood  swaying,  with  bent  knees,  like  one  on 
shipboard,  as  if  he  would  presently  collapse  altogether. 

"Hold  up,  old  chap!"  said  O'Ferral  anxiously. 
"Hold  up!  Don't  lose  your  head,  or  you'll  make  a 
scene." 

His  warning  proved  efficaious  where  words  more 
weighty  might  well  have  failed  in  their  object.  Quaint- 
ance had  all  a  quiet  man's  horror  of  what  is  described 
as  a  scene,  and,  to  escape  such  mischance,  he  braced 
his  slack  muscles,  threw  back  his  head,  stood  erect, 
gazing,  half  blind,  across  a  sea  of  color,  to  where  he 
could  see  dimly  on  its  surface  that  fair  face  for  which 
he  had  staked  everything,  and  lost. 

For  that  was  what  it  had  come  to  now.  He  had 
yielded  entirely  to  a  fond  infatuation  which  had  whis- 
pered that  he  must  achieve  success  at  all  hazard,  that 
he  could  not  fail.  He  called  to  mind  how  he  had  once 
told  the  girl,  on  the  sunkissed  sands  at  Stormport,  that 
he  never  failed  ->nd  had  to  choke  back  the  groan  which 
had  almost  escaped  his  lips.  He  had  failed  so  abjectly 
in  this  most  essential  instance.  He  had  strained  every 
power  to  the  uttermost,  and  with  this  result.  He  felt 

232 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  233 

as  though  the  main-spring  of  life  had  snapped  within 
him. 

But  tragedy  must  wear  the  mask  of  mirth  in  modern 
society,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  crying 
for  the  moon.  His  dream  was  shattered,  and  although 
in  its  downfall  he  was  suffering  hurt  almost  beyond  en- 
durance, he  could  still  set  his  teeth,  repress  the  out- 
ward signs  of  his  great  inward  agony.  His  dainty 
duchess  had  recrossed  his  path,  as  he  had  prayed  she 
might,  but  now  there  was  a  real  duke  with  her!  She 
was  no  more  the  blushing  maid  in  whom  his  fondest 
hopes  of  happiness  were  centered,  but  a  grave  bride 
with  an  unsmiling  groom  beside  her!  It  was  time  to 
write  finis  on  that  page  and  turn  a  fresh  one,  on 
which  he  would  pen  rapidly  the  story  of  a  wasted  life. 

O'Ferral  darted  a  swift,  side-long  glance  at  him,  and 
was  relieved  to  see  that,  but  for  an  ashen  greyness  of 
the  face  which  might  pass  presently,  he  had  regained 
his  self-control.  The  Due  des  Reves  and  his  young 
wife  were  coming  that  way. 

Congratulations  were  being  showered  upon  them  at 
every  hand.  And,  even  as  Monsieur  had  foreseen,  it 
was  taken  for  granted  that  he  had  brought  the  Ameri- 
can beauty  over  from  her  own  country  with  him  on  his 
return  to  France.  All  Paris,  from  his  point  of  view, 
had  gathered  in  the  spacious  salons  of  the  Elysee.  His 
debut  as  a  married  man  could  not  well  have  been  made 
under  auspices  more  propitious.  And,  yet,  through  it 
all,  both  he  and  Madame  la  Duchesse  were  strangely 
quiet  and  constrained. 

As  they  came  slowly  nearer  to  where  Ouaintance 
was  standing  stiffly  against  his  pillar,  some  forceful  in- 
fluence drew  the  bride's  sombre  blue  eyes  past  the  men 


234  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

and  women  crowding  about  her  to  his.  She  started. 
A  shiver  shook  her  from  head  to  foot  and  her  pale 
cheeks  flushed. 

By  what  fatality  had  this  man  appeared  a  second 
time  to  see  her  do  public  penance  for  fault  that  was 
none  of  hers!  And  she  had  been  hoping  so  earnestly 
that  she  might  meet  no  known  face  when  she  first  went 
forth  with  her  husband ! 

Quaintance  would  fain  have  averted  his  glance,  but 
he  could  not.  She  bowed  to  him  since  she  must  either 
do  that  or  ignore  him.  He  bent  his  head  in  acknowl- 
edgment, while  Monsieur,  who  had  noticed  his  wife's 
quick  tremor,  traced  that  to  its  apparent  cause,  re- 
garded him  under  down-drawn  eyebrows. 

They  came  still  nearer  upon  the  tide,  and  Quaint- 
ance made  no  least  move.  The  Duchesse  passed  close 
to  him.  She  looked  up  into  his  haggard  face,  and  her 
lips  trembled  a  little,  their  corners  drooped,  at  what 
she  saw  therein.  But  she  spoke,  in  that  warm,  sweet 
voice  of  hers,  a  brave  smile  in  her  own  eyes  that  were 
dark  blue  now,  like  the  deeper  sea  which  hides  so 
many  sad  secrets. 

"It  was  very  good  of  you  to  pardon  our  escapade 
with  your  car,"  she  said  swiftly,  but  offering  no  expla- 
nation thereof  since  any  such  must  have  been  at  Fan- 
chette's  expense.  "I  am  sorry  you  had  so  much  trouble 
about  the  bracelet.  You  got  my  message?" 

He  bowed  again,  in  assent,  unable,  strive  as  he 
might,  to  find  words  with  which  to  reply  fittingly.  She 
moved  away  with  her  husband,  and  no  more  was  said. 
She  had  not  offered  to  introduce  the  one  to  the  other, 
and  Monsieur,  knowing  no  English,  was  none  too  welt 
pleased.  He  judged  all  men  by  his  own  old  standards, 
and  those  had  been  low  ones. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  235 

Others  also  had  noticed  the  tall,  distinguished-look- 
ing American  who  had  evoked  the  first  sign  of  interest 
in  her  surroundings  shown  by  his  lovely  compatriot 
since  she  had  entered  the  salon.  He  was  looking  lin- 
geringly  after  his  lost  duchess  as  she  passed  onward 
out  of  his  life. 

"I'm  going  away  now,  O'Ferral,"  he  repeated  shak- 
ily. "You'll  make  my  excuses  to  Madame  Cornoyer. 
Tell  her  I'm  seedy,  or  something.  I'm  going  away." 

"The  very  best  thing  you  can  do,"  commented 
O'Ferral,  who  had  observed  Monsieur  looking  back  at 
his  friend.  "Avoid  the  fire,  since  you've  burned  your 
fingers,  and,  say,  Steve,  I  wouldn't  do  anything  silly 
if  I  were  you." 

"I'm  a  fool,"  said  Quaintance  drearily,  "but  not  that 
sort,  O'Ferral.  And  my  name's  Newman,  not  Steve." 

They  separated  with  a  nod  of  understanding,  but 
Quaintance  had  not  yet  made  his  escape  when  Cor- 
noyer appeared  escorting  his  mother  with  that  bland 
air  of  extreme  decorum  for  which  he  was  justly  famous. 
Quaintance  chatted  for  a  few  moments  with  them,  and 
then  told  Madame  that  he  must  go,  alleging  an  insup- 
portable headache. 

"You  don't  look  at  all  well,"  she  said  with  quick 
sympathy,  and  her  son's  countenance  became  suddenly 
overcast. 

"With  your  permission,"  said  he  plaintively,  "I  shall 
take  this  poor  sick  man  to  his  apartment.  Monsieur 
O'Ferral  here,  he  will  take  great  care  of  you  till  I  re- 
turn. O'Ferral,  I  go  to  the'drug  store  of  the  Blue  Rab- 
bit there  to  buy  antipyrin  for  Mister  Newman.  Con- 
duct yourself  judiciously  with  my  mother." 

He  bowed  with  great  formality,  and,  before  Quaint- 
ance could  protest  against  so  much  self-sacrifice, 


236  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

Madame  had  passed  on  with  O'Ferral,  Cornoyer  was 
urging  him  toward  a  side  door  through  which  they 
made  an  inconspicuous  exit. 

"The  Old  Dutch  will  not  stay  here  long,"  explained 
that  youth  with  solemn  complaisance.  "She  too  is 
much  bored  by  all  this  tomfoolishness.  And  then,  per- 
haps, O'Ferral  will  come  to  the  Blue  Rabbit  also,  where 
they  sell  antipyrin  frappe  to  cure  sore  heads." 

Quaintance  paid  no  heed  to  his  chatter,  and  followed 
him  almost  without  volition.  It  mattered  little  how 
he  passed  his  time  now,  and  he  was  glad  of  other  com- 
pany than  the  grey  ghosts  of  his  dead  hopes.  He  had 
been  dreading  to  go  back  alone,  while  these  still 
mocked  and  mowed  at  his  shoulders,  to  the  empty 
rooms  in  the  Rue  St.  Roch.  He  found  himsef  in  a 
cab,  which  had  carried  him  over  the  river  and  down 
the  long  Boulevard  St.  Germain,  before  he  at  length 
awoke  with  a  start  to  the  consciousness  that  he  had 
come  thither  unwittingly. 

"D'you  know  where  the  Due  des  Reves  lives,  J.  J.  ?" 
he  asked,  unconcernedly  as  he  could,  and  interrupting 
without  ceremony  the  other's  ceaseless  flow  of  re- 
marks. 

"He  lives  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  that  chenapan.  But 
he  has  also  a  shack  over  here  in  the  Faubourg.  The 
hotel  des  Reves — it  is  there,  see!  That  one.  Hey! 
cabby.  Hold  on  a  minute." 

Quaintance  looked  out  at  the  massive  mansion,  and 
his  heart  was  hot  within  him.  It  was  there  that  his 
dear  duchess  of  dreams  would  live  out  her  life,  amid 
splendor  and  luxury  far  beyond  anything  he  could  have 
offered  her.  The  great  wrought-iron  gates  which 
guarded  the  carriage  entrance  stood  wide,  and  he  could 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  237 

see  into  a  spacious  court-yard,  aglow  with  the  rich  light 
of  many  lamps,  a  balustraded  terrace  about  it  from 
which  rose  tier  upon  tier  of  glistening  windows.  The 
place  was  a  palace  in  miniature.  He  hoped  that  the 
duchess  would  be  happy  there. 

"Des  Reves  is  blowing  himself  on  gas!"  Cornoyer 
observed  in  a  puzzled  tone.  "I  wonder  what's  up.  He 
has  not  lived  on  this  side  of  the  river  since  his  old  man 
kicked  the  bucket." 

"How  long  has  he  been  married?"  asked  Quaintance 
abruptly. 

"He  isn't  married." 

"It  must  have  been  very  lately  then,"  Quaintance 
cogitated  still  more  ruefully.  "He's  married,  J.  J.,  and 
to  an  American  girl.  The  Duchesse  des  Reves  was 
with  him  at  the  Elysee  to-night." 

Cornoyer's  face  became  instantly  expressive  of  pain- 
fully astonished  and,  at  the  same  time,  sympathetic  sur- 
prise. He  was  a  perspicacious  young  man,  and  much 
that  had  been  obscure  in  connection  with  Quaintance's 
recent  erratic  movements  was  clear  to  him  now.  A 
woman  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  as  usual.  And  heart- 
ache was  worse  than  headache. 

It  was  all  no  business  of  his.  He  could  not  inter- 
fere. But — he  had  known  the  old  due  and  knew  the 
young — he  felt  very  sorry  for  the  Duchesse:  and  for 
Quaintance. 

A  scarlet  motor  car  entered  the  court-yard  as  they 
drove  on  again.  Cornoyer  looked  after  it  curiously, 
but  it  held  only  the  chauffeur.  And  silence  obtained 
in  the  cab  till  it  drew  up  before  the  Blue  Rabbit. 

"What  on  earth  did  you  bring  me  here  for?"  asked 
jQuaintance  somewhat  irritably,  and  stopped  on  the  un- 


238  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

even  sidewalk  to  study  with  growing  distaste  the 
shabby  exterior  of  the  brasserie,  the  gloomy-looking, 
unlighted  fronts  of  the  buildings  which  flanked  it. 

"To  cure  your  headache,"  Cornoyer  answered  as- 
suredly. "Come  on  in.  If  you  don't  like  it  we'll  go 
away." 

Quaintance  buttoned  up  his  overcoat,  lest  his  even- 
ing clothes  should  make  him  unnecessarily  conspicuous 
in  such  a  plebeian  resort,  but  Cornoyer  took  no  such 
precaution.  He  pushed  boldly  past  the  curtained  doors 
which  led  from  the  empty  brasserie  into  a  much  more 
roomy  chamber  beyond,  confronted  without  embar- 
rassment the  festive  assemblage  gathered  about  the 
marble-topped  tables  there  and  which  broke  into  up- 
roarious acclamation  as  they  appeared. 

"Do  not  take  any  notice  of  them,"  he  advised,  his 
own  features  of  a  ferocious  gravity,  and  led  the  way  to 
an  unoccupied  table  half  way  down  the  long,  dimly 
lighted  hall,  where  they  were  immediately  provided 
with  two  foot-high  steins  of  Munchener,  and  having 
quaffed  these,  standing,  to  the  health  of  the  other  rev- 
ellers, were  forthwith  free  of  the  guild  and  to  follow 
their  own  devices. 

Quaintance  had  never  been  in  the  Brasserie  of  the 
Blue  Rabbit  before,  although  he  had  known  the  Latin 
Quarter  intimately  in  his  student  days,  and  it  stood 
within  half  a  mile  of  the  School  of  Mines.  But  he  recol- 
lected that  they  had  reached  it  through  various  frowsy 
lanes,  that  it  stood  well  apart  from  the  beaten  track. 

"What  street's  this  ?"  he  asked  Cornoyer. 

"This  is  not  a  street,"  answered  that  solemn-visaged 
young  man.  "It  is  the  Impasse  de  Paradis,  where  we 
have  come  to  hear  some  angels  singing." 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  239. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  Blue  Rabbit  seemed  more 
appropriate  to  fiends  than  angels,  so  smoke-thick  was. 
it.  The  unceiled  oaken  rafters  were  wreathed  in  a 
heavy  cloud,  and  the  robes  of  those  angels  already 
present  would  certainly  reek  of  tobacco  upon  the  mor- 
row. Some  of  them  wore  robes,  too,  which  it  would 
cost  a  large  sum  to  replace,  and  which  became  them 
marvellously. 

From  enshadowed  alcoves  shone  clear,  bright  eyes, 
and  pearly  teeth  flashed  smiles  as  Quaintance  looked 
dully  about  him.  The  swish  and  the  frou-frou  of  silk 
and  satin  were  audible  over  the  rippling  tumult  of 
voices,  the  lace  and  the  lingerie  liberally  displayed  on 
all  sides  were  of  the  most  luxurious.  Here  was  no 
cheap  cafe-concert  of  the  Quartier,  but  a  sudden  resort 
of  the  smart  set  in  search  of  a  new  sensation  and  thrilled, 
with  the  perilous  pleasures  of  outvieing  even  the 
dames  du  trottoir  in  the  exposure  of  their  more  intimate 
charms. 

Most  of  the  men  were  also  in  evening  dress,  and  as 
much  at  their  ease  as  the  waiters  shuffling  about  irt 
dirty  shirt-sleeves  with  steins  by  the  dozen. 

It  was  the  correct  thing  to  drink  only  beer  at  the 
Brasserie  of  the  Blue  Rabbit.  And,  that  no  least  touch 
of  realism  might  be  lacking  in  their  make-believe,  the 
proffer  and  acceptance  of  a  stein  was  introduction  suffi- 
cient to  any  one  of  its  frequenters.  No  names  need  ever 
be  mentioned,  and  all  acquaintance  was  understood  to 
cease  at  the  outward  threshold. 

So  much  Quaintance  gleaned  from  Cornoyer  in  an- 
swer to  his  idle  questions  before  midnight  chimed  musi- 
cally from  the  near  belfry  of  Notre  Dame.  And,  as 
the  bells  ceased,  an  answering  carillon  was  struck  upon, 


240  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

the  concert  grand  at  one  end  of  the  long  room,  the 
talk  and  laughter  died  down,  the  entertainment  pro- 
vided for  the  expectant  patrons  of  the  Blue  Rabbit 
began. 

It  p'roved  far  better  than  Quaintance  had  anticipated. 
For  among  the  idle  rich  who  formed  the  bulk  of  the 
gathering  there  were  those  who  had  great  gifts  which 
they  squandered  thus.  A  woman  sang,  most  divinely.  A 
young  girl  danced,  unashamed,  till  the  seventh  of  the 
Seven  Veils  had  slipped  from  her  slender  body.  A 
man  with  a  weary,  cynical  face,  made  such  music  on  a 
violin  that,  after  he  sat  down  again,  there  was  no  sound 
to  be  heard  save  the  tick  of  the  clock  outside  in  the 
Brasserie.  And  time  passed  unheeded. 

Another  rose,  a  tall,  lissom  slip  of  a  girl,  all  in  white, 
and  crossed,  laughing,  to  the  piano.  Quaintance  sat 
back  and  closed  his  eyes  as  her  velvet  contralto  called 
up  a  vision  which  he  would  fain  have  forgotten  for  that 
brief  interval,  the  words  that  she  voiced  so  sweetly 
brought  an  added  ache  to  his  heart,  a  hurtful  echo  of 
his  own  dear-bought  experience. 

"Plaisir  d'amour  ne  dure  u'un  moment : 
Chagrin  d'amour  dure  toute  la  vie  ..." 

He  would  fain  have  forgotten,  but 

He  was  recalled  to  a  perfunctory  interest  in  his  sur- 
roundings by  the  prolonged  applause  bestowed  on  the 
singer,  through  which  there  came  to  his  ears  a  strange 
yet  familiar  voice  loudly  raised  in  greeting,  and  he  saw 
a  hand  fall  heavily  on  Cornoyer's  shoulder. 

"Hello,  J.  J. !  Still  seeing  life,  eh?  Quite  like  old 
times  to  run  across  you  here.  Make  room  for  me — I'm 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  241 

going  to  buy  you  boys  drinks.  Hey,  gargon  ?  A  quart 
of  Heidsieck  and  three  big  glasses.  Three,  yes,  three, 
dummkopf!" 

Cornoyer  shook  hands,  rather  limply  and  since  he 
could  not  very  well  help  himself,  with  this  boisterous 
newcomer,  in  whom  Quaintance  recognized  his  own 
namesake,  the  man  he  had  first  seen  in  Cornoyer's 
company  at  the  Cornucopia  Club  in  New  York.  He 
was  dressed  for  motoring,  and  looked  more  prosperous 
now  than  he  had  at  that  date,  an  appearance  he  imple- 
mented unnecessarily  by  producing  a  bundle  of  bills,  of 
which  he  made  a  great  display. 

"Who's  your  friend,  J.  J.  ?"  he  demanded,  but  Cor- 
noyer was  conveniently  deaf,  and  shook  his  head  when 
the  waiter  brought  the  champagne  round  to  him. 

"Oh,  come  on,  fill  up!"  the  other  insisted.  "Just 
this  one  round.  I've  some  one  waiting  for  me  in  all 
sorts  of  a  hurry.  And  maybe  you  won't  have  another 
chance,  for  I'm  going  to  get  married,  J.  J.,  my  boy! 
You  never  saw  such  a  peach  of  a  girl  as  I've  got  on  a 
string  upstairs,  and — we'll  both  be  rolling  in  money. 
See  this  wad?  Want  half  of  it?  Say  the  word  and  it's 
yours!  Lots  more  where  that  came  from." 

Quaintance  saw  that  he  was  not  as  sober  as  he  miglit 
have  been,  and  paid  no  attention  to  what  he  said  fur- 
ther. He  was  in  the  midst  of  some  huskily  confidential 
communication  to  Cornoyer  when  an  irascible-looking 
man  with  a  big  black  beard  and  moustache  bore  down 
on  him  from  the  doorway,  reproached  him  hotly  for 
wasting  his  time  thus.  He  rose,  sulkily  querulous  but 
obedient,  once  more  shook  hands,  and  departed  un- 
steadily in  the  wake  of  his  masterful  companion. 

Cornoyer  scowled  at  his  back  as  he  went. 


242  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"I  wish  they  had  kept  that  fellow  in  jail  in  New 
York,"  he  muttered.  "Let  us  go  home  now,  Newman. 
Another  night  we  can  come  back  here  and  see  some 
more  high-lifers  playing  the  fool." 

They  passed  through  the  deserted  brasserie,  and 
stepping  into  the  alley,  Quaintance  looked  right  and 
left  to  see  how  the  land  lay.  Standing  there  while  Cor- 
noyer  went  back  to  buy  cigarettes,  he  caught  sight  of 
two  dim  figures  at  the  blind  end  of  the  Impasse,  recog- 
nized in  them  his  unworthy  namesake  and  that  indi- 
vidual's black-bearded  friend.  They  seemed  to  be  en- 
gaged in  angry  argument,  and  the  latter  once  more 
gained  his  point.  They  turned  away  from  the  low  door 
at  which  they  were  standing,  passed  rapidly,  without 
noticing  him  in  the  shadow,  and  turned  the  corner  into 
a  cross-street.  Quaintance  lit  a  eigar  expeditiously, 
and  started  with  Cornoyer  to  find  a  cab. 

"How  is  the  sorehead  now?"  asked  that  astute  gen- 
tleman as  they  drove  across  the  silent  Isle  de  la  Cite. 
""I  saw  a  duchess  at  the  Blue  Rabbit,  but  not  the 
Duchesse  des  Reves.  There  are  plenty  of  peaches  in 
Paris,  Newman,  and  even  that  first-water  cad  of  a 
Quaintance  has  found  one  to  marry  him — the  same  girl 
he  made  to  kiss  him  before  he  would  mend  her  auto- 
mobile." 

"Who?"  asked  Quaintance  stupidly. 

"The  one  that  he  told  us  about  at  the  club  in  New 
York — when  you  and  O'Ferral  were  so  cross  with  me." 

Quaintance  stared  at  him  through  the  darkness,  un- 
able to  understand. 

"But  how  the  devil  can  he  marry  her  if  she's  the 
Duchesse  des  Reves  already?"  he  demanded  explo- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  243 

sively,  forgetting  in  his  own  bewilderment  that  Cor- 
noyer  knew  nothing  of  her. 

"I  bought  the  Duchesse's  car  from  her  before  she 
left  the  other  side,"  he  explained  rapidly,  "and  that's 
how  I  came  to  know  that  it  was  he  who  held  her  up  in 
it.  But  she  didn't  kiss  him." 

"Of  course  not,"  Cornoyer  remarked  cheerfully.  "I 
did  not  believe  him.  He's  always  too  soused  to  know 
what  he  says.  Forget  him." 

"Tell  me  all  you  know  about  him,  J.  J.,"  Quaintance 
begged,  his  mind  full  of  dark  and  deadly  suspicions. 
"Who  is  he?  Where  does  he  hail  from?  What  did 
he  tell  you  to-night?" 

"His  name  is  Quaintance,"  Cornoyer  replied  readily, 
"Stephen  Quaintance.  He  told  me  when  I  first  met 
him  he  had  just  come  from  Africa  to  New  York  to 
marry  his  cousin  because  she  was  a  millionairess.  He 
told  me  a  lot  of  hot  air  too  about  his  travels — where  he 
could  get  a  lot  of  rose-diamonds  whenever  he  wanted 
to,  and  so  on.  To-night  he  said  he  had  found  her  and 
she  was  a  peach — the  same  one  he  told  us  about  at 
the  club.  And  so  he  is  going  to  marry  her. 

"But  how  is  he  going  to  do  that,  if  Des  Reves  has 
married  her  first,  eh? 

"He's  a  damned  imposter!"  cried  Quaintance,  his 
mind  made  up  on  that  one  point  at  least,  and  quite  un- 
able to  contain  himself.  Cornoyer  looked  at  him  in 
surprise,  so  strained  and  tense  was  his  tone. 

"He's  a  damned  impostor!  He's  impersonating  an- 
other man.  I  must  do  something  to  stop  it. 

"I  knew  Stephen  Quaintance,"  he  went  on  excitedly, 
"and  that  scoundrel's  trying  to  pass  for  him.  If  you 
see  him  again,  Cornoyer,  find  out  where  he  lives  and 


244  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

let  me  know  without  a  moment's  delay.  It's  a  matter 
of  the  most  urgent  importance  to  me.  I'll  tell  you  the 
rest  of  the  trouble  some  other  time.  Here's  the  Rue 
St.  Roch.  I  won't  ask  you  in — I  must  talk  it  all  over 
with  O'Ferral  first,  and " 

He  shook  hands  hastily,  jumped  out  as  the  cab 
stopped  at  his  door. 

"You  won't  forget,  J.  J.,"  he  urged  anxiously.  "It 
will  be  the  very  greatest  favor  that  you  can  do  me  to 
let  me  know  where  I  can  lay  hands  on  that  fellow." 

He  ran  upstairs,  his  mind  in  a  frenzy.  Could  it  be 
possible  that  Miles  Quaintance's  adopted  daughter  was 
now  the  Duchesse  des  Reves!  That  were  surely  too 
cruel  an  irony  of  blind  fate,  and  yet — judging  by  all  he 
knew,  it  seemed  but  too  probable. 

He  clattered  into  O'Ferral's  rooms  in  an  agony  of 
belated  enlightenment.  But  they  were  empty.  He 
found  on  his  own  parlor  table  a  note  from  his  friend 
which  said,  "Have  been  called  away.  Don't  know  when 
I  may  get  back." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE     PRODIGAL     GOES    BACK     TO     HIS     HUSKS AT     THE 

BRISTOL 

"May  I  telephone  in  the  morning  to  inquire  how 
you  are?"  the  Due  des  Reves  asked  wistfully  of  his  wife 
as  he  bade  her  good-night  in  the  corridor  of  the  Elysee 
opposite  the  ladies'  boudoir.  There  he  met  her  when 
she  had  arrived  at  the  palace,  and  she  had  forbidden 
him  to  see  her  further  on  her  departure,  not  caring  to 
afford  him  opportunity  for  any  less  public  leave-taking. 

"Yes,  if  you  wish  to  do  so,"  she  answered  without 
much  interest,  and,  having  bowed  to  him,  went  her 
way. 

He  watched  the  straight,  slender  figure  disappear 
down  the  broad  passage,  the  pale  silk  cloak  she  wore 
outlined  against  the  crimson  carpet  between  two 
thickets  of  green  plants  overtopped  by  tall  palms.  And 
then  he  turned  reluctantly  back  to  the  salon,  to  spend 
another  half  hour  there  as  he  had  promised  her  that  he 
would.  It  hurt  him  that  she  should  deem  necessary 
such  precaution  against  his  following  her,  and  yet  he 
could  not  blame  her.  He  would  prove  to  her  presently 
that  she  might  henceforth  trust  him  even  as  he  was 
ready  to  trust  her. 

He  had  been  greatly  gratified  by  the  reception  they 
had  met  at  the  hands  of  society,  knowing  how  little  he 
himself  had  done  to  earn  any  but  the  most  frigid  toler- 

245 


246  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

ance.  Their  first  evening  together  had  been  a  great 
success  to  all  outward  seeming,  and  beyond  that  he 
need  not  yet  aspire.  In  time  he  would  show  his  world 
that  even  such  a  prodigal  as  he  had  been  might  make 
a  model  husband,  and  at  the  moment  he  must  baffle 
its  curiosity  as  to  the  wife  for  whose  sweet  sake  he  had 
undertaken  that  radical  change.  He  stayed  for  a  full 
half-hour,  meeting  inquiries  and  congratulations  alike 
with  a  bland  courtesy  which  irritated  his  former  inti- 
mates to  a  degree. 

When  he  reached  his  rooms  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore, 
Jules  Chevrel  was  absent  and  that  annoyed  him.  A 
sudden  distaste  of  the  over-luxurious  atmosphere  there 
overcame  him.  It  was  too  reminiscent  of  much  that  he 
would  fain  have  forgotten.  He  resolved,  in  his  new- 
found ambition,  to  give  them  up,  and  also  to  rid  him- 
self of  Chevrel  at  the  first  opportunity.  The  fellow 
knew  far  too  much  about  him,  had  of  late  grown  very 
insolent  in  his  knowledge.  And,  rather  than  incur  de- 
lay in  his  own  reformation,  he  would  remove  from  that 
place  of  evil  memories  on  the  instant.  He  found  a 
suit-case,  was  packing  it  with  his  own  hands,  when 
Jules  came  sauntering  in  from  the  garage  where  he  had 
been  cleaning  the  car  which  Seager  had  just  redeliv- 
ered. 

Jules  looked  contemptuously  at  his  employer's  prep- 
arations. He  had  anticipated  some  stupidity  of  the 
sort,  so  changed  had  Monsieur  shown  himself  since  his 
brief  visit  to  the  Rue  des  Trois  Freres.  He  had  further 
foreseen  that  it  would  not  suit  him  to  stay  in  Mon- 
sieur's service,  and  when  his  first  impertinent  remark 
'earned  him  immediate  dismissal  he  merely  smiled  with 
supercilious  indifference. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  247 

"It  is  to  be  supposed  that  Monsieur  does  not  mean 
to  turn  me  into  the  street  at  this  hour?"  said  he. 

"You  may  remain  until  I  remove  the  furniture,"  the 
Due  replied  briefly,  and  set  out,  carrying  his  own  suit- 
case, servantless,  to  an  hotel.  Jules  still  smiled  sar- 
donically. 

"He  has  the  swelled  head  with  this  new  wife  of  his !" 
said  that  observer  of  events.  "Well,  we  shall  see  what 
happens.  I  have  my  thirty  thousand  francs,  and — it 
would  be  interesting  to  catch  another  glimpse  of 
Madame's  wealthy  friends.  They  may  be  more  conv- 
municative  since  their  expensive  interview.  I'll  take 
a  cab  to  the  Blue  Rabbit  on  the  chance  of  running 
across  them  there." 

The  Due  slept  badly  in  unaccustomed  quarters,  and 
missed  Jules'  ministrations  in  the  morning,  as  Jules  had 
known  he  would.  But  he  refrained  from  calling  for  his 
former  servant,  as  he  was  much  inclined  to  do,  and 
spent  the  forenoon  in  aimless  anticipation  of  the  time 
when  he  might  telephone  the  hotel  des  Reves.  That 
came  at  last  and  he  rang  up,  asking  that  Madame  la 
Dttchesse  might  speak  with  him.  When  he  was  told 
that  she  had  not  returned  since  leaving  the  hotel  the 
night  before,  his  heart  almost  stopped  beating. 

He  called  up  the  head  of  the  household,  and  had  swift 
perquisition  made  into  all  that  had  happened  since  she 
had  first  arrived  there  from  the  Rue  des  Trois  Freres. 
He  was  told  that  her  maid  had  gone  to  the  Elysee  for 
her,  in  his  own  motor  because  one  of  the  only  carriage- 
pair  had  fallen  suddenly  sick  and  was  now  dead,  but 
neither  mistress  nor  maid  had  from  that  moment  been 
heard  of.  He  cut  the  hotel  des  Reves  off,  and  called 
up  his  garage.  The  chauffeur  knew  nothing.  He  had 


248  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

been  off  duty,  by  Monsieur's  permission,  on  the  previ- 
ous evening.  The  car  in  question  had  certainly  not 
been  used.  It  was  clean  now  as  he  had  left  it.  Mon- 
sieur called  up  the  Elysee,  and  begged  speech  with  the 
groom  of  the  gateway  there.  The  groom  of  the  gate- 
way remembered  distinctly  that  Madame  la  Duchesse 
had  driven  off  in  a  scarlet  auto  instead  of  the  carriage 
and  pair  expected.  No,  he  had  not  noticed  the  chauf- 
feur particularly.  Then  the  Due  called  up  the  Palais 
de  Justice  and  asked  for  Tissot-Latour.  But,  before 
that  delighted  official  had  even  got  to  the  'phone,  he 
changed  his  mind  as  to  the  advisability  of  confiding  in 
the  Quai  des  Orfe"vres  and  merely  invited  him  to  call 
at  the  Rue  St.  Honore  as  soon  as  he  could  spare  time 
that  afternoon.  M.  Tissot-Latour  thought  he  might 
leave  his  desk  soon  after  four,  and  was  cut  off  in  the 
midst  of  a  long  harangue.  And,  lastly,  the  white-lipped 
man  who  had  stayed  so  long  in  the  asphyxiating  sound 
— and  air-proof  booth  at  the  hotel  bureau  called  up  his 
own  apartment,  whence  he  was  answered  by  Jules 
Chevrel,  who  made  no  comment  when  he  was  in- 
formed that  he  was  reinstated  in  employment,  and  bid- 
den to  come  round  to  the  hotel  without  delay.  As 
he  strolled  toward  the  Bristol  at  his  leisure,  he  mut- 
tered to  himself,  "Something  has  happened  between 
them.  And  so  soon!  I  wonder  what?" 

He  found  Monsieur  in  a  state  bordering  on  distrac- 
tion, and  started  in  unfeigned  astonishment  when  he 
was  told  the  reason. 

"Madame  has  left  me,  Jules,"  said  the  Due  in  a 
hoarse  whisper  which  was  the  best  voice  he  could  mus- 
ter. "She  did  not  return  to  the  hotel  des  Reves  from 
the  Elysee.  You  must  help  me  to  find  her  again." 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  249 

Jules  Chevrel's  face  darkened.  So  this  was  why 
those  Americans  had  been  so  liberal !  And  he  who  had 
acted  as  chauffeur,  the  tall,  fair  man  who  called  him- 
self Stephen  Quaintance,  had  told  him  that  Madame 
had  been  safely  delivered  at  her  destination.  They  had 
misled  him,  had  tricked  him,  and A  dazzling  in- 
spiration entered  his  mind.  He  almost  chuckled  to 
think  how  fortune's  wheel  had  revolved  since  the  day 
on  which  that  other  American  beast  had  thrown  him 
into  the  sea  at  Rockaway  Beach.  It  seemed  that  he 
might  now  revenge  himself  condignly  for  that  still  rank- 
ling insult.  For  it  was  none  other  than  his  aggressor 
whom  he  had  observed  overnight  in  the  concert-hall 
of  the  Blue  Rabbit  at  the  same  table  with  the  chauffeur, 
Stephen  Quaintance.  He  would  teach  all  those  per- 
fidious foreigners  that  they  could  not  make  a  fool  of 
a  Frenchman  and  go  scot-free.  But  he  must  be  wary 
lest  Monsieur  should  learn  the  part  he  himself  had 
played  with  regard  to  the  car. 

He  expressed  most  respectful  sympathy  with  his  em- 
ployer over  such  an  altogether  unlocked  for  misfor- 
tune. 

"It  is  but  right  to  assume,"  he  went  on,  "that 
Madame  la  Duchesse  has  not  disappeared  of  her  own 
free  will.  Has  Monsieur  noticed  any  acquaintance  of 
hers  in  her  neighborhood?" 

Monsieur  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant,  striding  to 
and  fro  in  the  spacious  bedroom.  He  had  indeed  no- 
ticed what  the  perspicacious  Jules  had  suggested,  and 
that  no  later  than  last  night  at  the  Elysee.  He  told  the 
cunning  valet  some  part  of  what  he  had  observed  there, 
and  that  rascal  was  inwardly  transported  although  he 
had  listened  with  great  outward  gravity. 


250  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"It  may  be  then  that  I  can  offer  Monsieur  a  clue," 
he  declared.  "The  gentleman  Monsieur  describes  was 
seen  with  Madame  in  America.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
him  yesterday  at  Auteuil.  Late  last  night  I  saw  him 
in  company  with  two  others  at  a  cafe,  and  one  of  the 
others  wore  motor  clothing,  a  complete  chauffeur's 
outfit.  It  almost  looks  as  though  they  had  abducted 
Madame !" 

The  Due  gnashed  his  teeth  in  a  passion  of  impotent 
anger.  He  had  not  told  Jules  of  Madame's  quick  emo- 
tion at  sight  of  her  countryman,  how  she  had  greeted 
him,  or  that  the  stalwart  American  had  left  the  palace 
immediately  after.  A  most  poisonous  suspicion  was 
penetrating  his  mind.  He  had  just  remembered  that 
she  had  insisted  upon  leaving  by  herself,  forbidden  him 
to  see  her  to  her  carriage.  And  at  that  instant  all  his 
good  resolutions  deserted  him.  He  could  see  clearly 
then  how  he  had  been  tricked  by  the  one  woman  he 
had  ever  trusted. 

"Get  me  a  pint  of  champagne,  quickly,  Jules,"  he 
commanded,  "and  a  glass  of  cognac  to  go  with  it." 

As  Jules  left  the  room,  he  threw  himself  down 
on  the  bed,  covered  his  face  with  two  twitching  hands. 

What  a  fool  he  had  been,  to  believe  that  women  were 
any  better  than  men!  And  she  had  taken  him  in  so 
easily!  All  she  wanted,  of  course,  was  to  free  herself 
of  police  surveillance,  so  that  she  might  go  back  to  the 
man  who  had  followed  her  from  America.  What  was 
he  to  do  now?  Put  the  matter  into  the  hands  of  the 
police,  and  so  incur  public  exposure?  No,  that  would 
not  do.  It  would  not  help  him  to  have  her  brought 
back  a  prisoner.  Did  he  want  her  back  at  all,  since 
she  had  thus  cruelly  killed  his  nascent  faith  in  her  flaw- 
lessness?  He  did  not  know. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  251 

He  hastily  swallowed  the  heady  liquor  Jules  brought 
him,  curtly  bade  that  still  respectfully  sympathetic 
schemer  remove  his  belongings  back  to  the  Rue  St. 
Honore,  and  left  the  room,  almost  too  sorely  stricken 
to  think,  not  caring  whither  he  went,  but  with  murder 
for  latent  motive.  And,  as  he  walked,  with  bent  head, 
down  the  vestibule  of  the  hotel  on  his  way  out  into  the 
sunshine,  Quaintance  came  up  the  steps  toward  him, 
arm  in  arm  with  Cornoyer  and  in  a  mood  no  less  reck- 
less. 

At  sight  of  him  the  Due  stopped  abruptly,  and  drew 
a  long,  hissing  breath.  Here  was  opportunity  all  un- 
looked  for!  He  must  make  the  most  of  it.  And 
Quaintance  was  eyeing  him  in  no  friendly  fashion,  al- 
though Cornoyer,  who  knew  the  Due,  had  nodded  a 
salutation  and  would  have  passed  on. 

He  intercepted  the  pair  by  stepping  squarely  in  front 
of  Quaintance.  He  had  recovered  his  wits  now,  in  so 
far  as  outward  conduct  was  concerned,  and  knew  ex- 
actly what  he  must  do. 

"The  pleasure  of  a  word  with  Monsieur,"  he  begged, 
having  lifted  his  hat  with  great  ceremony. 

Quaintance  waited,  impassive,  while  Cornoyer  re- 
luctantly drew  to  one  side  and  the  passers  by  glanced 
curiously  at  the  two  facing  each  other  so  stiffly  there. 

"Where  is  Madame,  my  wife?"  demanded  the  Due, 
in  the  same  steely  and  monotonous  voice,  his  chin 
thrust  forward,  a  fire  of  hate  alight  in  his  narrowed 
eyes. 

"How  the  devil  do  I  know  where  Madame  your  wife 
is!"  retorted  Quaintance,  thankful  for  the  excuse  to 
pick  quarrel  with  the  roue  who  had  robbed  him  of  his 
heart's  desire. 

The   Due  struck   him,  lightly  enough,   across   the 


252  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

face,  but  the  voice  in  which  he  branded  him,  "Liar!" 
rang  through  the  vestibule.  It  had  scarce  left  his  lips 
when  Quaintance  returned  the  blow,  but  in  such  wise 
that  his  enemy  went  hurtling  against  a  bystander  who 
had  halted  in  blank  amazement,  and  they  both  came 
to  earth  with  a  crash. 

Cornoyer  sprang  forward.  Hotel  employes  clust- 
ered about  the  fallen.  The  vestibule  of  the  severely 
decorous  Bristol  evolved  a  crowd  almost  as  quickly 
as  would  have  any  plebeian  tavern  in  Paris.  And  in 
the  heart  of  it  stood  Quaintance,  with  clenched  fists, 
wishing  he  could  have  got  in  another  blow.  Cornoyer 
had  stepped  to  his  elbow,  and  they  remained  thus  until 
the  Due  had  rid  himself  of  the  irate  bystander. 

Then  Cornoyer  went  forward,  leaving  Quaintance 
strictly  charged  to  restrain  himself,  to  where  the  vic- 
tim of  his  friend's  right  arm  was  quietly  stanching  a 
cut  chin  and  striving  to  convince  those  who  encircled 
him  that  he  had  no  further  immediate  violent  intention. 
He  willingly  accompanied  Cornoyer  in  the  direction  of 
the  door,  while  Quaintance  sauntered  toward  the 
smoking-room  whither  they  had  been  bound.  The  on- 
lookers seeing  them  separate  thus  drifted  about  their 
business  discontentedly. 

Jules  Chevrel,  following  his  employer  at  a  respectful 
distance,  had  overseen  the  encounter  from  the  safe  shel- 
ter of  a  convenient  alcove,  and  he  stayed  quietly  there 
till  Quaintance  had  passed  out  of  sight,  when  he  es- 
caped, suit-case  in  hand  and  muttering.  With  what 
a  butcherly  blow  had  the  American  savage  felled  Mon- 
sieur! Jules  trusted  that  the  matter  would  not  be  al- 
lowed to  rest  there. 

And  neither  was  it.    When  Cornoyer  came  back  he 


rA  MILLION  A  MINUTE  253 

;wore  a  look  of  genuine  gravity  for  the  first  time  since 
Quaintance  had  met  him,  and  also  spoke  in  French. 

"M.  le  Due  demands  satisfaction,"  he  said.  "I  told 
him  that  you  would  be  quite  ready  to  accord  it.  May  I 
act  for  you  in  the  matter?" 

"I  hate  to  drag  you  in,  J.  J.,"  Quaintance  told  him, 

"but — if  you  don't  mind O'Ferral's  away,  you  see, 

and " 

"I'm  only  too  glad  to  have  been  on  hand.  What 
weapons  do  you  prefer?" 

"I  prefer  my  fists,"  said  Quaintance  with  good-hu- 
mored nonchalance.  He  was  on  much  better  terms 
with  the  world  now  than  he  had  been.  "But  I  don't 
suppose  that  would  suit  the  other  side,  so  I'll  leave  it 
to  you,  J.  J." 

"The  Due's  a  most  expert  swordsman,"  Cornoyer 
stated  reflectively.  "He'd  run  you  through  in  a  twink- 
ling, unless  you're  a  first-class  fencer." 

"Then  we'll  strike  swords  out,  old  chap.  I've  played 
at  singlesticks,  but  not  very  seriously." 

"He's  a  dead  shot,  too,"  said  Cornoyer. 

"He'll  be  a  dead  shot  when  I've  done  with  him," 
Quaintance  asserted  grimly.  "Better  make  it  guns  of 
some  kind,  J.  J.  That  will  probably  be  genteel  enough 
to  suit  him,  and  I've  learned  to  be  handy  with  most 
sorts." 

"I  gave  him  your  address,  and  he'll  send  a  friend 
round  between  four  and  five.  So  I'll  be  back  there 
with  you  then,  and  we'll  fix  it  for  to-morrow  at  dawn 
if  that  suits  you." 

"Perfectly.  The  sooner  we  get  it  over  the  better. 
rAnd  say,  J.  J.,  I'd  better — I  don't  want  to  get  you  into 
trouble." 


254  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"That  is  the  last  thing  you  must  think  about,"  Cor- 
noye-r  replied  steadily. 

When  M.  le  Due  reached  his  rooms  in  the  Rue  St. 
Honore,  a  short  walk  from  the  Place  Vendome,  with 
his  handkerchief  to  his  chin  which  he  had  had  repaired 
at  a  drug-store  in  passing,  he  found  Tissot-Latour  in 
the  act  of  pushing  the  bell-button.  He  had  been  at  a 
loss  to  know  where  to  turn  for  a  friend  who  would  not 
infer  too  much  from  the  fact  that  he  meant  to  fight  the 
American  to  whom  all  Paris  at  the  Elysee  had  seen  his 
unsmiling  Duchesse  both  smile  and  speak.  Tissot-La- 
tour had  not  been  present  at  the  function  there.  Fur- 
thermore, this  fat  vulgarian  whom  he  esteemed  so 
lightly  was  of  sufficient  standing  in  the  Prefecture  de 
Police  to  ensure  any  friend  of  his  at  least  a  fair  chance 
of  escape  in  case  of  any  such  unpleasant  complication 
as  would  indubitably  result  from  the  projected  en- 
counter. 

He  therefore  greeted  his  unsuspecting  sycophant 
warmly,  apologized  for  the  oversight  which  had  oc- 
curred in  connection  with  the  card  for  the  presidential 
reception,  supplied  him  with  gin-and-vermouth,  a  mix- 
ture he  much  affected,  and  broached  the  subject  with- 
out delay. 

Tissot-Latour  was  too  grateful  for  his  kindness  to 
run  any  risk  of  curdling  it  by  acceding  to  his  request 
otherwise  than  freely.  It  startled  him  greatly  at  first, 
and  his  flabby  cheeks  paled  at  the  mere  idea  of  firearms 
or  almost  equally  dangerous  steel,  but,  as  he  rapidly  re- 
flected, duelling  was  quite  a  fashionable  amusement, 
seldom  resulted  in  bloodshed  beyond  a  teaspoonful, 
and  it  would  add  enormously  to  his  social  prestige  to 
have  represented  a  duke  on  the  field  of  honor. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  255 

"But  certainly,  dear  Etienne,"  he  said  affectionately, 
sucking  at  the  cigar  his  host  had  tossed  him.  "Where 
shall  I  find  this  fellow?  Rue  St.  Roch — name  of  Cor- 
noyer.  Any  relation  to  old  Cornoyer,  formerly  of  the 
Foreign  Affairs?  His  son!  I  shall  be  glad  indeed  to 
act  for  you." 

"Try  to  arrange  for  pistols,"  the  Due  suggested, 
"and  you'd  better  cut  round  there  now.  It  doesn't 
do  to  be  late  in  such  affairs." 

"I  fly,"  Tissot-Latour  assured  him,  struggling  out  of 
his  arm-chair  with  an  effort. 

"Not  a  word  to  a  soul  on  the  subject,"  his  principal 
warned  him  sternly,  and  he  looked  downcast.  He  had 
counted  on  some  preliminary  credit  in  the  circles  he 
frequented,  would  even  have  risked  official  displeasure 
by  letting  the  newspapers  know  in  advance  of  his  aris- 
tocratic engagement. 

"If  anything's  heard  about  it  I'll  hold  you  responsi- 
ble, the  Due  continued  menacingly.  "You'll  have 
plenty  of  notoriety  after  it's  over." 

"Me,  I  seek  not  notoriety,"  his  disappointed  second 
assured  him,  "nor  would  I  even  appear  in  such  an  af- 
fair for  any  one  but  you,  Etienne." 

He  panted  round  to  the  Rue  St.  Roch  in  the  after- 
noon sunshine,  and  the  concierge  there  ushered  him 
into  the  room  in  which  Cornoyer  was  awaiting  him.  It 
did  not  take  Cornoyer  long  to  find  out  what  sort  of  fel- 
low he  had  to  deal  with,  and  thereafter  all  went 
smoothly,  since  Tissot-Latour  contented  himself  with 
agreeing  profusely  to  such  arrangements  as  the  other 
cared  to  put  forward.  It  was  thus  settled  that  the 
meeting  should  take  place  next  morning,  as  soon  after 
dawn  as  there  should  be  light  to  shoot  by,  since  the 


256  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

weapons  were  to  be  pistols,  at  twenty  paces.     The 
place,  Verrieres. 

Tissot-Latour  was  charmed  with  his  colleague's 
civility,  and  lingered  with  some  idea  of  ingratiating 
himself  with  him  for  future  effect,  but  Cornoyer  hav- 
ing got  through  with  the  business  in  hand  became  sud- 
denly uncommunicative,  and  the  aspirant  to  Lis  friend- 
ship was  on  the  point  of  departure  when  O'Ferral 
walked  in  upon  them. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   POSTERN   IN  THE   IMPASSE  DE   PARADIS 

Quaintance  had  spent  some  agonizing  hours  since 
he  had  reached  the  Rue  St.  Roch  at  half-past  four  in 
the  morning  and  found  that  O'Ferral  was  absent.  He 
had  been  counting  on  the  correspondent  for  sympathy 
and  counsel  in  the  most  heart-breaking  predicament 
which  had  evolved  itself  out  of  his  well  meant  effort  to 
protect  Miles  Quaintance's  adopted  daughter  from  the 
cruel  measures  his  uncle  had  devised  against  her  and 
himself.  He  would  have  given  his  right  hand  now  to 
revoke  the  past,  since  he  could  not  doubt  that  his 
scheme  had  signally  miscarried,  had  recoiled  on  his  own 
head. 

Neither  did  he  doubt  now  that  the  man  whom  he 
had  first  encountered  at  the  Cornucopia,  and  last,  less 
than  an  hour  ago,  at  the  Blue  Rabbit,  had  somehow 
managed  to  possess  himself  of  the  identity  of  that  dead 
Stephen  Quaintance  who  should  have  been  safe  in  his 
grave  at  Yola  on  the  Benue  in  Africa.  And  had 
tracked  the  girl  down  with  the  idea  of  inducing  her  to 
comply  with  the  terms  of  the  will.  But  that  unscru- 
pulous adventurer  had  also  come  too  late,  since  she 
was  wed  already. 

That  was  what  hurt  beyond  all  else.  The  thought 
that  his  blind  sacrifice  had  cost  him  his  fair  chance  of 

257 


'258  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

winning  the  only  woman  in  the  world  who  could  now 
comfort  him,  her  of  the  pure  pale  face,  the  sorrowful 
blue  eyes,  the  duchess  of  his  dearest  dreams  whom  he 
had  seen  his  last  of  as  she  passed  out  of  his  life  on  a 
duke's  arm.  He  groaned  aloud  in  the  extremity  of  his 
regret. 

Ah !  could  he  but  have  known  in  time.  He  had  meant 
well,  but  fate,  with  which  he  would  have  interfered,  had 
struck  back  at  him  viciously,  a  cowardly  blow,  from 
behind,  in  the  dark. 

He  sat  down  in  his  own  rooms  to  wait  up  in  case 
the  correspondent  should  come  in.  He  was  still  sit- 
ting there,  a  cold  pipe  between  his  teeth,  staring  fixedly 
at  the  dead  fire  on  the  hearth,  when  a  servant  came  in 
with  coffee  at  nine  o'clock.  When  Cornoyer  called  at 
noon  to  carry  him  off  to  breakfast,  he  found  him  in  the 
same  attitude,  and  O'Ferral  had  not  yet  returned. 

At  sight  of  Cornoyer,  however,  he  pulled  himself  to- 
gether, drank  the  stale  coffee  at  his  elbow,  and  made 
a  hasty  toilet.  A  cold  bath  braced  his  system,  and,  by 
the  time  they  had  walked  as  far  as  the  Rue  de  la 
Chaussee  d'Antin,  where  they  turned  into  the  Paillard, 
he  was  once  more  able  to  think  clearly.  And  the  trend 
of  his  thoughts  was  toward  revenge,  against  the  man 
who  had,  however  unwittingly,  come  between  him  and 
his  one  hope  of  happiness.  The  other,  that  vulgar 
scoundrel  who  was  impersonating  him,  might  be 
brought  to  book  afterwards,  since  no  great  harm  could 
meantime  result  from  his  machinations. 

Over  the  breakfast-table  he  took  Cornoyer  into  his 
late  confidence,  telling  him  briefly  the  strange  story  of 
Stephen  Quaintance,  his  uncle's  will,  and  the  girl  who 
iwas  now  the  Duchesse  des  Reves.  And  Cornoyer 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  259 

heard  him  out  in  astonished  silence,  had  no  comment 
to  make  when  he  finished.  The  situation  in  which  he 
found  himself  was  so  unenviable,  and  there  seemed  to 
be  no  way  out  of  it. 

Cornoyer  told  him,  somewhat  reluctantly  and  in  re- 
ply to  his  pointed  questions,  that  the  Due  des  Reves' 
record  was  almost  as  bad  as  his  reputation.  He  won- 
dered bitterly  how  long  it  would  take  the  Duchesse  to 
find  out  her  husband's  character,  and  let  his  grudge 
against  the  Due  grow,  unchecked. 

From  the  restaurant  Cornoyer  took  him  to  call  for 
a  friend  at  the  Bristol  and  he  went,  almost  without 
volition,  rather  than  be  left  alone  with  his  thoughts 
again.  The  outcome  of  their  meeting  with  the  chief 
cause  of  his  mental  anguish  filled  him  with  an  unholy 
joy.  He  hurried  Cornoyer  back  to  the  Rue  St.  Roch  as 
soon  as  he  decently  could,  and  set  him  down  in  O'Fer- 
ral's  apartment  to  wait  the  coming  of  M.  le  Due's  rep- 
resentative in  the  matter  to  be  arranged. 

The  correspondent  expressed  no  surprise  at  finding 
his  premises  thus  occupied  in  his  absence,  bu-t  nodded 
a  greeting  to  the  young  Frenchman  and  turned  into 
Quaintance's  sitting  room.  He  was  still  wearing  the 
evening  clothes  and  light  overcoat  in  which  he  had 
parted  from  Madame  Cornoyer  at  the  palace  entrance, 
was,  as  always,  neat,  unruffled,  and  inconspicuous. 
Quaintance  jumped  from  his  seat  as  he  entered,  Cor- 
noyer, who  had  at  last  got  rid  of  Tissot-Latour,  close 
at  his  heels. 

"Confound  you,  O'Ferral !"  he  cried  crossly.  "Where 
have  you  been?  I  sat  up  all  night  expecting  you." 

Cornoyer  winked  warningly  from  behind,  but  O'Fer- 


26o  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

ral  needed  no  hint  as  to  his  friend's  unfortunate  frame 
of  mind. 

"Been  to  Havre,"  he  rejoined  pleasantly,  and,  hav- 
ing helped  himself  to  a  drink  and  a  cigar,  sat  down. 
"Caught  the  12.45  there,  and  have  just  got  back.  Had 
a  hurry  call  at  the  last  moment  to  say  that  I  was  to  go. 
Only  time  to  send  you  a  line,  and — here  I  am.  What's 
doing?" 

Cornoyer  came  forward  and  "Well?"  asked  Quaint- 
ance. 

"To-morrow,  at  dawn,"  said  he,  "behind  a  cottage  at 
the  edge  of  the  Bois  de  Verrieres.  Pistols,  at  twenty 
paces.  Two  shots." 

"One   will   be    sufficient,"   commented    Quaintance, 
"but  you  were  quite  right  to  agree  to  a  second,  J.  J." 
O'Ferral  looked  grave. 

"J.  J.,"  he  remarked,  seeking  no  superfluous  expla- 
nations, "I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor." 

"Consider  it  done,"  replied  the  other  without  hesi- 
tation. 

"I  want  you  to  let  me  take  your  place  to-morrow  at 
dawn." 

"Now,  see  here,"  the  correspondent  continued  in  def- 
erence to  Cornoyer's  disappointment.  "I  introduced 
you  to  Newman,  and  you  must  let  me  take  a  hand  in 
this  trouble.  "I'm  better  situated  than  you  for  any 
affair  of  the  sort,  because  I  have  no  family.  If  I  had, 
I'd  stand  out,  as  you're  going  to  do — to  oblige  me." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Cornoyer  with  an  obvious  effort. 
"If  Newman — Quaintance  doesn't  object,  have  it  your 
own  way." 

"I  think  O'Ferral's  right,  J.  J.,"  said  Quaintance.  "I 
really  hate  to  involve  either  of  you  in  such  a  business, 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  261 

but,  since  I  can't  help  myself,  I'll  have  the  one  with  the 
fewest  ties.  I'm  in  your  debt  already  for  all  that  you've 
done,  and  no  one  could  have  made  neater  arrange- 
ments. You  won't  be  sorry  this  time  to-morrow  that 
you're  well  out  of  it." 

Cornoyer  still  looked  glum,  but  no  more  was  said 
on  that  subject  and  O'Ferral  turned  to  Quaintance  with 
a  quick  inquiry. 

"You've  told  J.  J.  who  you  were,"  he  exclaimed. 
"What's  been  happening?" 

"All  my  plans  have  miscarried  most  damnably," 
Quaintance  explained.  "The  dead  man  on  whom  I  be- 
stowed my  identity  does  not  seem  to  have  supported 
it  long.  There's  a  spurious  Stephen  Quaintance  turned 
up,  in  the  person  of  that  very  fellow  J.  J.  had  with  him 
at  the  Cornucopia.  We  met  him  again  last  night,  but 
he'd  gone  before  I  found  out  what  his  game  was.  He 
must  have  robbed  the  body  of  all  my  papers,  and 
thought  that  by  posing  as  me  he  might  make  his  for- 
tune. 

"But  he's  just  too  late.  Miles  Quaintance's  adopted 
daughter  is  married  already.  She  is  the  Duchesse  des 
Reves." 

He  was  speaking  in  a  slow,  impersonal  tone,  but  his 
listeners  could  hear  through  that  the  hurt  he  was  suf- 
fering. 

"The  Due  des  Reves  gave  me  to  understand  a  couple 
of  hours  ago  that  his  wife  had  disappeared,  and  called 
me  a  liar  because  I  stated  that  I  did  not  know  where 
she  was.  I  had  never  spoken  to  the  man  before.  To- 
morrow at  dawn  he  and  I  are  going  to  settle  accounts, 
on  that  score  and  others." 

O'Ferral  was  regarding  him  with  a  deep  frown. 


262  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"The  Duchesse  has  disappeared!"  he  said.  "Now 
that's  strange — very  strange.  I  saw  the  Duchesse 
leave  the  Elysee  last  night.  I  was  seeing  Madame  Cor- 
noyer  into  her  carriage,  and  we  had  to  wait  for  a  few 
seconds  while  the  Duchesse  stepped  into  her  car.  It 
was  the  Due's  car  she  drove  off  in,  I  know,  but  the 
chauffeur  was  that  same  fellow  you  had  at  the  Cornu- 
copia, J.  J.,  and  who,  it  seems,  is  now  posing  as  Stephen 
Quaintance.  I  recognized  him  with  some  difficulty,  but 
I'll  swear  that  it  was  he.  And  perhaps  he  could  tell  the 
Due  des  Reves  something  as  to  the  Duchesse's  where- 
abouts. 

"When  does  the  twelvemonth  term  of  the  will  ex- 
pire, Steve?" 

Quaintance  was  on  his  feet. 

"What  date's  this?"  he  muttered.  "The  sixteenth. 
It  must  be  to-night.  Yes,  that's  right.  I  kept  a  care- 
ful note  in  my  memory.  Time's  up  at  midnight. 

"Damnation!  What  a  fool  I  was.  He  must  have 
kidnapped  her.  I  wasn't  bothering  much  about  him — 
I  thought  he  was  too  late  to  do  any  harm.  I  must  get 
after  him  at  once.  I  saw  him  and  that  scoundrel  with 
the  black  beard  at  a  door  in  the  Impasse  de  Paradis. 
I'll  try  that  first.  I'll  shoot  him  like  a  dog  if " 

He  hurried  into  his  bed-room,  muttering  threats, 
and  came  back  charging  a  revolver. 

"Put  that  thing  down,"  said  O'Ferral  in  his  sternest 
voice,  his  back  against  the  door  whither  he  had  sprung 
in  quick  precaution. 

"Listen  to  me,  Steve,  or  I'll  lock  you  in  here  till  you 
learn  sense.  Where's  this  Impasse  de  Paradis?  Ex- 
plain the  thing  coherently  and  we'll  sort  it  all  out  by; 
degrees.  Your  methods  will  only  make  it  worse." 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  263 

Quaintance  looked  at  him  with  a  puzzled  scowl,  but 
that  soon  cleared  before  the  correspondent's  steady 
eyes,  and  he  related  the  circumstance  of  which  the 
others  were  still  in  ignorance. 

"Well  and  good,"  said  O'Ferral  judiciously.  "Now 
sit  down  for  two  minutes  while  I  change  my  clothes, 
and  then  we'll  take  a  casual  squint  at  the  Impasse  de 
Paradis.  Understand  plainly  that  you  and  I  are  taking 
the  thing  up  together  at  this  stage,  and  don't  let  me 
hear  you  move  hand  or  foot  till  I  come  back  for  you." 

His  masterful  tone  did  not  fail  of  effect  on  his 
friend's  fevered  mind. 

"You're  very  good,  O'Ferral,"  Quaintance  said  much 
more  calmly.  "Excuse  me.  I  must  be  a  bit  on  edge, 
I  think." 

He  pocketed  his  weapon  and  sat  down,  gripping  the 
elbow-rests  of  his  chair  so  that  great  dents  showed 
in  the  leather.  It  was  the  worst  that  had  befallen  yet 
to  think  that  actual  harm  might  have  come  to  his  lost 
duchess  through  him. 

O'Ferral  reappeared  without  undue  delay,  and  to 
him  as  commander  of  the  expedition  Cornoyer  ad- 
dressed a  modest  request  that  he  might  be  permitted 
to  join  it. 

"I  don't  want  to  butt  in,"  said  he,  "but  I  might  be 
useful  if  there  were  a  row." 

"Glad  to  have  you  with  us,"  replied  O'Ferral.  "Come 
on.  We'll  get  a  cab  by  the  way." 

It  had  been  dark  for  nearly  an  hour  before  they  set 
out,  and,  when  they  reached  the  street,  it  was  raining. 
They  drove  to  the  Place  St.  Michel,  and  from  there 
made  their  way  on  foot  to  the  Impasse. 

"Cut  into  the  Blue  Rabbit  and  ask  the  proprietor  if 


264  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

he's  seen  anything  lately  of  an  American  called  Stephen 
Quaintance,"  the  correspondent  commanded  of  Cor- 
noyer,  who  had  been  telling  him  of  their  encounter  with 
that  impostor  there.  "You  know  the  old  fellow  well 
enough  to  find  out  anything  he  can  tell." 

But  Cornoyer  came  back  almost  immediately  shak- 
ing his  head. 

"He  hasn't  been  in  since  we  left  this  morning,"  he 
reported.  "A  week  ago  he  used  to  be  about  a  good 
deal,  and  ran  up  a  score  which  he  settled  yesterday 
evening." 

They  went  on  down  the  Impasse,  and  Quaintance 
pointed  out  the  postern  in  an  angle  of  the  blank  wall 
at  its  blind  end.  O'Ferral  looked  back,  but  there  was 
no  one  visible.  He  pulled  a  little  electric  torch  from 
his  pocket  and  scrutinized  the  key-hole  carefully. 

"Someone  been  out  and  in  quite  lately,"  he  said. 
"We'll  have  a  look  at  the  front  of  this  building." 

They  traveled  round  to  the  lane  on  which  it  abutted, 
empty  at  that  hour  and  gloomy  on  a  wet  night  with 
nothing  in  view  but  the  grim  frontage  of  the  lofty  old 
dwelling-house,  standing  with  shuttered  windows,  the 
last  of  its  kind  on  that  site.  A  weatherbeaten  board 
lacking  most  of  its  pristine  whiteness  announced  that 
it  was  to  let,  furnished,  for  a  term  of  years,  and  that 
the  keys  might  be  had  from  the  bakery  at  an  adjacent 
corner. 

"Get  the  keys,"  O'Ferral  ordered,  and  Cornoyer 
was  off  on  the  instant.  He  was  intensely  interested  in 
the  proceedings,  and  filled  with  admiration  for  their 
leader's  detective  methods.  The  correspondent  re- 
called him. 

"Got  a  gun?"  that  gentleman  asked. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  265 

"Well,  you'd  better  make  a  bee-line  for  the  nearest 
armory  and  lay  in  a  working  six-shooter  at  the  same 
time.  We  shan't  require  to  use  it,  of  course,  but  it 
might  have  a  good  moral  effect." 

Cornoyer  came  hurrying  back,  with  the  news  that 
the  keys  had  been  granted  no  later  than  that  forenoon 
to  a  man  who  answered  in  every  respect  to  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  soi-disant  Stephen  Quaintance.  They  would 
probably  not  be  returned  for  three  or  four  days,  since 
that  individual  had  required  them  for  that  length  of 
time  with  a  view  to  taking  some  measurements. 

"H'm!"  said  O'Ferral.  "Steve,  I  think  we've  struck 
the  scent  first  throw-off.  But  we'll  have  to  break  in, 
unless  you'd  prefer  to  do  things  legally,  which  would 
take  longer." 

"Don't  lose  a  moment,"  Quaintance  whispered.  "If 
she's  in  that  villain's  hands,  O'Ferral,  her  life's  not  safe 
for  the  next  few  hours." 

"True  for  you,"  assented  the  correspondent  under 
his  breath.  It  had  not  struck  him  before  that  the  situa- 
tion was  such  a  grave  one.  Much  might  happen  in  a 
few  hours  where  there  were  ten  millions  at  stake. 

"We'll  try  the  back  first,"  he  directed.  "Come  on 
round  again." 

Cornoyer  was  deeply  delighted  when  he  produced 
from  his  pocket  a  bunch  of  thin  keys,  with  one  of  which 
he  almost  succeeded  in  forcing  the  lock.  But  he  finally 
had  to  admit  himself  baffled,  and  drew  back  a  little  to 
stare  vexedly  up  at  the  high  blank  wall. 

"One  of  us  could  get  over  that,  I  think,"  Cornoyer 
suggested. 

"I'm  lightest.  I'll  try  if  Newman — Quaintance  will 
give  me  a  back.'* 


266  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"You'll  have  to  look  sharp  about  it  then,"  O'Ferral 
advised.  "If  we're  caught  in  the  act  it  will  mean  the 
lock-up  for  the  lot  of  us.  We  haven't  even  the  shadow 
of  an  excuse,  unless  you  want  to  give  the  whole  show 
away,  Steve." 

"We'll  try  it  and  see  what  happens,"  said  Quaintance. 
"Wait,  here's  someone  coming!" 

They  flattened  themselves,  faces  inward,  among  the 
shadows,  but  the  footsteps  they  heard  turned  into  the 
brasserie  at  the  far  corner.  No  further  sound  was  audi- 
ble. 

Quaintance  braced  himself  at  his  full  height  against 
the  wall.  Cornoyer  clambered  on  to  his  shoulders  and 
straightened  himself  on  firm  footing. 

"Allez!  Vitel  he  whispered,  jumping  swiftly  and 
surely.  Quaintance  had  set  his  teeth  while  the  boots 
hit  into  his  shoulders  as  the  other  made  his  spring,  but 
uttered  no  sound. 

"Where  is  he?"  he  asked  stepping  back  to  look  up. 

"He's  over  the  wall,"  answered  O'Ferral.  "You  did 
that  stunt  very  neatly,  Steve." 

An  instant  of  expectation  followed,  and  they  heard  a 
dull,  grating  wrench.  Then  silence  for  two  or  three 
minutes  which  seemed  interminable  till  that  was  broken 
by  a  quick  creak  and  a  heavy  body  fell  from  above  at 
the  back  of  the  door.  The  door  opened,  noiselessly, 
which  proved  that  the  hinges  had  recently  been  oiled, 
and  they  pushed  hastily  in  as  a  couple  of  pedestrians 
came  round  the  corner  toward  them.  O'Ferral  closed 
it  behind  him,  and  they  waited  with  beating  hearts,  but 
those  steps  also  ceased  suddenly. 

"How  did  you  get  in?"  he  asked  Cornoyer,  casting 
the  light  of  his  lamp  cautiously  about  him. 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  267 

"There  is  a  small  skylight  above.  It's  bolted  inside 
but  I  dug  the  glass  out  of  its  frame.  I  set  it  back  in 
place  as  well  as  I  could  before  I  let  go." 

''Looks  all  right  from  here,"  said  O'Ferral  in  a  whis- 
per and  took  his  thumb  from  the  battery  button. 
''Boots  off  now,  boys.  We  must  tread  delicately.  Take 
open  order,  and  don't  tumble  over  each  other." 

As  soon  as  they  were  thus  prepared  against  accident, 
they  set  off,  the  correspondent  leading  the  way,  which 
took  them  through  the  covered  passage  into  the 
kitchen. 

The  door  from  there  to  the  hall-way  was  closed,  and 
it  creaked  as  they  opened  it.  They  stood  listening  in- 
tently in  the  pitch  darkness,  until  they  were  fairly  sure 
that  no  one  had  heard,  before  moving  on.  It  was  eerie 
work,  and  each  felt  glad  that  the  others  were  there. 

The  rooms  opening  off  the  hallway  were  empty  of  all 
save  faded  furniture,  ghastly  of  shape  in  its  ragged 
coverings,  but  showing  no  trace  of  having  been 
touched  for  years.  They  crept  upstairs,  and,  on  the 
floor  above,  found  a  locked  door  which  they  could  not 
open.  O'Ferral  motioned  to  them  to  pass  on  in  the 
meantime,  and  mounted  another  flight,  where  there 
were  once  more  only  empty  rooms.  A  third  and  fourth 
afforded  no  more  encouragement,  and  the  lamp's  faint 
gleam  showed  that  one  more  would  take  them  to  the 
top  of  the  house. 

There  were  only  two  doors  on  that  flat,  and  one  stood 
ajar.  It  led  to  a  box-room.  The  other  was  locked, 
and  the  key  had  been  taken  away.  O'Ferral  put  his 
ear  to  the  keyhole,  but  could  hear  nothing. 

"House  seems  to  be  empty,"  he  whispered  to  Quaint- 
ance,  who  held  up  his  Hand,  got  down  on  his  knees,  and 


268  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

listened  for  anything  the  floor  might  have  to  tell.  He 
stayed  thus  for  quite  a  minute  before  he  got  quietly  to 
his  feet  again. 

"There's  some  one  inside,"  he  said,  and  at  that  mo- 
ment steps  were  distinctly  audible  above  the  patter  of 
rain  on  the  roof.  From  the  darkness  below  came  the 
dull  thud  of  a  door  closing.  The  stairs  creaked  omi- 
nously. 

"Stand  by!"  said  Quaintance,  and  they  lined  up  be- 
side him,  their  backs  to  the  wall. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MAITRE  GEORGES  IS  REQUIRED  TO  SOLEMNIZE  DOMINIC 
SEAGER'S  MARRIAGE 

When  Seager  and  Arendsen  left  the  Blue  Rabbit  to- 
gether, and  after  the  latter  had  induced  his  half-intoxi- 
cated companion  to  leave  the  Duchesse  alone  for  the 
present,  had  led  him  away  from  the  postern  past 
Quaintance  in  the  shadow  of  the  brasserie  door,  it  was 
almost  four  in  the  morning  of  the  last  day  allowed  by 
Miles  Quaintance's  will  for  wresting  his  millions  from 
the  outstretched  hands  of  charity..  And  it  inflamed 
Black  Dirck's  mind  still  more  to  think  that  that 
had  begun  so  ill.  Four  of  its  precious  hours  had  al- 
ready sped,  and  four  more  must  pass  before  they  could 
make  any  further  move. 

But  Seager,  still  artificially  elated  by  the  champagne 
he  had  swallowed  in  haste  since  Cornoyer  and  Quaint- 
ance would  none  of  it,  was  boisterously  optimistic. 
He  clapped  Arendsen  on  the  shoulder  as  they  crossed 
the  bridge  to  their  quarters  on  the  Isle  de  la  Cite,  and, 
"Cheer  up,  old  man,"  said  he.  "The  game's  going  our 
way.  With  two  heads  like  yours  and  mine  behind  it, 
our  hand's  a  winner." 

Arendsen  looked  round  at  him,  evilly,  but  said 
no  word,  and  Seager  shrank  into  silence  under  his 
glance.  They  reached  their  rooms  without  further 
speech. 

269 


270  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"Get  to  bed,"  Arendsen  ordered  then,  and  Seager, 
cowed,  witless,  bemused,  threw  himself  down,  dressed 
as  he  was,  with  no  more  than  a  muttered  curse.  Al- 
most instantly  he  fell  into  a  sodden  sleep.  But  Arend- 
sen sat  up  long  after  Paris  was  wide  awake — to  the  last 
day  which  stood  between  him  and  the  loss  of  that  great 
fortune  almost  within  his  grasp,  only  sixteen  hours  of 
it  left.  He  sat  immobile,  hands  clenched,  teeth  show- 
ing, eyes  fixed  on  vacancy,  but  his  brain  was  very  busy^ 
and  when  he  rose  stiffly  from  his  straight  chair,  the 
frown  on  his  face  had  relaxed  a  little.  He  had  formed 
fresh  plans. 

At  eight  o'clock  he  shook  Seager  into  sullen  con- 
sciousness, and  his  accomplice,  raising  himself  on  one 
elbow,  glowered  over  at  him  out  of  bloodshot  eyes. 

"Curse  you,  Arendsen !"  he  growled  savagely.  "Why 
couldn't  you  let  me  sleep?  I've  a  head  worse  than  a 
menagerie  of  wild  beasts,  and " 

"You'll  have  plenty  of  time  to  sleep,"  the  other  as- 
sured him,  with  ominous  quietude,  "after  I'm  through 
with  you.  And  I'll  be  through  with  you  soon  after 
twelve  to-night.  Get  ready  quickly.  We're  going 
out." 

Seager  started  as  he  was  thus  reminded  of  the  flight 
of  time,  and,  curbing  the  retort  which  had  been  trem- 
bling on  his  tongue,  rose  obediently,  caught  up  a 
pitcher  of  water  with  which  he  strove  to  slake  the  thirst 
consuming  him. 

Arendsen  rang  savagely  for  coffee,  and,  having  seen 
to  it  that  Seager  emptied  the  cafetiere  while  they  both 
made  a  hasty  toilet,  picked  up  his  own  hat,  led  the  way 
downstairs  with  a  quick  gesture.  Seager  followed  him 
docilely,  having  realized  in  the  interval  the  perilous 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  271 

gravity  of  their  joint  situation,  the  still  more  perilous 
position  in  which  he  therefore  stood. 

"Where  are  we  going  now?"  he  demanded  morosely 
as  they  turned  toward  the  north  bank  of  the  Seine. 
"You  needn't  be  so  infernally  mysterious,  Dirck.  I've 
just  as  much  at  stake  in  this  business  as  you.  And 
more,  if  it  comes  to  that." 

"And  more,"  echoed  Arendsen,  with  the  same  omi- 
nous quietude.  "It  will  go  a  great  deal  worse  with 
you  than  with  me,  if  we  fail. 

"We're  going  to  talk  to  the  Duke  now.  I  got  his 
address  and  the  story  of  his  so-called  marriage  from 
that  man  Chevrel,  while  you  were  bemuddling  yourself 
with  those  others  at  the  Blue  Rabbit." 

Seager  scowled  at  him  but  made  no  verbal  retort, 
and  they  pursued  their  way  to  the  Rue  St.  Honore  in 
sullen  silence,  each  occupied  with  his  own  scheme  to 
outwit  the  other. 

Their  errand  thither  proved  to  be  vain,  for,  when 
Jules  Chevrel  came  to  the  door,  in  pyjamas,  he  could 
only  tell  them  that  Monsieur  had  left  his  rooms  on  the 
previous  evening,  gone  elsewhere,  with  only  a  suit-case 
for  baggage. 

"He  will  be  back,  without  doubt,"  the  good  Jules 
assured  them,  "but  when,  who  can  tell?  He  is  a  very 
erratic  gentleman,  my  late  employer,  but  it  would  seem 
that  he  has  not  yet  tired  of  our  mutual  friend,  Miss 
Lorraine,  with  whom  I  hope  you  had  a  satisfactory  in- 
terview yesterday  evening." 

His  leeringly  significant  smile  enraged  Seager  be- 
yond all  reason :  and  he  sprang  forward,  aiming  a  fierce 
blow  at  him.  But  the  wily  Jules,  already  experienced 
in  the  wild-beast  ways  of  Americans,  was  not  thus  to  be 


272  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

caught  napping,  and  Seager's  knuckles  encountered 
only  a  hurtful  surface  of  polished  oak.  Monsieur  le 
Due's  door  was  closed  against  them,  and  Jules  could 
not  be  induced  to  re-open  it. 

Arendsen  had  no  time  now  to  waste  in  argument  or 
recrimination.  He  merely  made  a  mental  note  of  this 
fresh  notch  in  his  long  score  against  the  unfortunate 
Seager,  and  they  set  out  to  seek  Monsieur  high  and 
low  elsewhere,  not  to  be  baffled  till  midnight  should 
strike  and  Miles  Quaintance's  millions  be  finally  be- 
yond their  grasp. 

It  was  already  evening  before  they '  returned  to  the 
Rue  Saint  Honore,  and,  once  more  plodding  wearily 
upstairs,  found  the  oaken  outer  door  of  Monsieur's 
apartment  wide. 

"We'll  walk  right  in,"  said  Arendsen  determinedly, 
and  did  so.  "Close  both  these  doors,  and  bolt  them." 

"Who's  there  ?"  asked  a  curt  voice  which  came  from 
a  curtained  doorway  at  the  other  end  of  the  corridor. 
"Is  that  you,  Tissot-Latour  ?  I  told  you  not  to  come 
back?" 

Arendsen  strode  forward  without  hesitation,  and, 
pushing  into  the  room,  found  M.  le  Due  on  his  feet, 
very  angry  at  getting  no  answer  to  his  enquiry. 

"Who  the  devil  are  you?"  demanded  Monsieur,  re- 
garding this  unexpected  intruder  with  pardonable  as- 
perity. 

Arendsen  held  up  a  huge  hand,  and,  "One  moment," 
said  he,  looking  over  his  shoulder  for  Seager  whom  he 
must  perforce  trust  to  explain  matters  since  his  own 
French  was  too  indifferent. 

"Tell  him  that  we're  here  on  behalf  of  your  cousin, 
Miss  Lorraine,"  he  instructed  that  individual,  hard  at 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  273 

his  heels,  and  Seager  bowed  to  the  Due  with  ironic 
ceremony.  His  lost  self-confidence  was  rapidly  return- 
ing, and  he  was  well  pleased  with  the  prospect  of  bait- 
ing the  man  who  had  come  between  him  and  the  vast 
wealth  which  should  have  been  his. 

"We  are  here  on  behalf  of  Miss  Lorraine,  my 
cousin,"  said  he,  chin  thrust  forward  and  scowling  at 
Monsieur. 

"You  mean  Madame  la  Duchesse  des  Reves!"  cried 
the  Due  eagerly,  and  accepting  their  presence  without 
further  comment.  "You  mean  Madame  la  Duchesse! 
Where  is  she?  What  has  happened  to  her?  Speak 
quickly!  For  the  love  of  heaven,  speak!" 

Arendsen  held  up  his  hand  again. 

"Tell  him  to  go  slow,  Seager.  I  want  to  understand 
all  he  says.  We're  going  to  thrash  this  matter  out  to 
an  end  here.  Tell  him  to  go  slow  and  to  pay  attention 
to  me." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  him  yourself  since  you're  so  im- 
portant?" snapped  Seager,  his  own  self-importance 
ruffled  by  the  other's  tone.  He  turned  to  the  Due  who 
xvas  anxiously  glancing  from  one  to  the  other  of  them, 
and  conveyed  to  him  in  drawling  French  some  part  of 
his  companion's  instructions. 

"And  you'd  better  attend  to  what  I've  got  to  say  to 
you,"  he  added  for  his  own  gratification. 

"Mais  mon  dieu,  Monsieur!"  urged  the  Due,  "tell  me 
quickly  what  you  have  to  tell.  Where  is  Madame  my 
wife?" 

"So  she  is  your  wife?"  Seager  asked  sourly.  "Are 
you  quite  sure ' 

"If  you  have  come  here  to  insult  me,"  said  Monsieur 
in  a  low,  steely  voice,  "you  had  better " 


274  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"Tranquilize  yourself,"  Seager  requested.  "We're 
here  to  talk  business,  not  to  make  fine  speeches.  And, 
if  you  feel  that  you  ever  want  to  see  her  again,  you'd 
better  reply  to  my  question." 

The  Due's  face  flushed  darkly,  but  with  a  great  effort 
of  will  he  controlled  himself,  and  answered,  since  he 
could  not  but  comply,  "Yes,  I  am  quite  sure." 

"There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  about  it,"  Seager  told 
Arendsen,  and  the  latter  gnawed  his  moustache  for  a 
moment  in  silence. 

"Then  the  marriage  must  be  annulled,"  he  an- 
nounced. "Tell  him  all  he  needs  to  know,  and  ask  him 
how  much  he'll  take  to  stand  in  with  us.  It  will  pay 
him  best  to  agree.  Tell  him  plainly,  Seager,  that  it 
will  pay  him  best  to  agree,  and  that  we're  not  to  be 
trifled  with." 

He  sat  listening  attentively,  head  forward,  frowning, 
while  Seager  made  matters  clear  to  the  staring  Due, 
having  premised  his  story  with  the  curt  warning  that 
they  three  were  quite  alone,  entirely  cut  off  from  com- 
munication with  the  outer  world,  a  fact  further  at- 
tested by  the  urgent  ringing  of  the  door-bell,  which 
no  one  answered. 

The  room  was  an  interior  one  and  windowless, 
lighted  from  overhead  by  day.  Its  cupola  was  closely 
curtained  now  and  shaded  lamps  shone  from  the  cor- 
nices. The  two  adventurers  had  safely  trapped  their 
victim.  And  Monsieur  knew  that  he  was  helpless  in 
their  hands.  He  could  easily  understand,  too,  that  they 
were  desperate  men.  Seager  had  told  him  their 
side  of  the  story  in  cunning  details.  They  had  staked 
their  all  and  were  determined  to  win. 

When  Seager  had  finished  speaking,  he  would  have 


A  MILLION  A.  MINUTE  275 

risen  but  that  they  simultaneously  ordered  him  to  sit 
still.  And  since  it  would  have  been  futile  to  measure 
forces  with  them  physically,  he  could  but  obey. 

"We're  waiting  your  answer  to  our  proposition," 
Seager  reminded  him  sternly. 

"It  needs  no  answer,"  returned  the  Due,  "but,  since 
you  think  that  it  does, — I  refuse." 

"Tell  him  that  he  does  so  at  the  risk  of  his  wife's  life, 
as  well  as  his  own,"  Arendsen  suggested  craftily,  and 
the  Due's  thin  face  showed  the  feelings  with  which  he 
received  that  statement.  But  he  was  no  whit  less  firm. 
Whatever  his  failings  he  was  no  coward,  and  they  could 
by  no  means  frighten  him  into  compliance  with  their 
most  monstrous  proposal. 

"I  refuse,"  he  repeated,  with  stubborn  fixity  of  res- 
olution. "My  own  life  is  as  nothing  to  me, — and  you 
two  will  pay  very  dearly  for  any  harm  which  may  hap- 
pen Madame  la  Duchesse  des  Reves." 

"He  won't  budge,"  Seager  told  Arendsen  vexedly, 
and  Arendsen  fell  to  tugging  at  his  black  beard.  He 
could  almost  foresee  the  failure  of  the  foul  plot  which 
had  promised  such  rich  reward.  And,  while  they  sat 
there  eyeing  each  other  furtively,  a  clock  in  the  corri- 
dor without  chimed  nine. 

Arendsen  started  up  with  an  oath  which  he  could 
not  repress.  At  midnight  Miles  Quaintance's  millions 
would  fall  prey  to  charity.  And,  since  it  seemed  that 
the  Due  could  not  be  coerced,  since  it  was  already  too 
late  to  evolve  any  further  feasible  scheme,  there  was 
nothing  left  for  it  but  to  play  his  last  card,  with  which 
he  must,  at  all  costs,  recoup  himself  for  the  loss  he  had 
so  far  suffered. 

He  knew  to  a  fraction  what  all  his  dealings  with 


276  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

Seager  had  cost  him,  and  made  up  his  mind  in  a  twink- 
ling what  he  must  do.  It  only  nettled  him  that  he 
could  not  act  in  the  matter  except  through  Seager,  who 
would  doubtless  seek  to  despoil  him  of  some  part  of 
his  fair  profit.  But  he  felt  confident  that  he  could  over- 
come his  accomplice  in  any  battle  of  wits. 

"Ask  the  Duke  how  much  he's  willing  to  pay  for  the 
safe  return  of  the  Duchess,"  he  said  suddenly,  and  Sea- 
ger lay  back  in  his  chair  with  a  quick  chuckle  of  amuse- 
ment. 

"Faith !  you're  a  downy  old  bird,  Dirck,"  said  he  ad- 
miringly. "It  will  be  a  wet  day  when  you  haven't  a 
card  or  two  up  your  sleeve!  And  so  you've  given  up 
hope  of  scooping  in  the  jack-pot,  have  you?  How 
about  me?  Share  and  share's  my  motto,  you  know." 

"You  ask  him  the  question,"  growled  Arendsen 
threateningly,  and  Seager  turned  to  the  Due  with  a 
serious  face,  fixing  in  his  own  mind  the  lowest  figure 
he  would  accept  for  himself  in  such  a  transaction.  He 
had  long  ago  learned  that  the  Due  was  reputed  a  rich 
man,  in  France. 

Monsieur  thought  long  and  earnestly  ere  replying. 
That  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  had  to  do  with  black- 
mailers, and  he  judged  that  no  small  sum  would  satisfy 
the  two  who  had  thus  bearded  him  in  his  own  den.  He 
had  also  repented  already  his  hasty  condemnation  of 
the  Duchesse,  his  first  suspicion  that  she  had  befooled 
him.  And  it  seemed  that  the  younger  of  the  two 
scoundrels  confronting  him  was  that  same  cousin  who, 
but  for  him,  might  have  shared  with  her  the  dead 
American's  millions.  He  foresaw  a  heavy  drain  on  his 
purse,  but  was  prepared  to  meet  that  if  he  could  not 
otherwise  succor  the  innocent  victim  of  his  own  ill- 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  277 

doing.     He  had  almost  groaned  aloud  at  thought  of 
what  she  might  have  suffered  in  their  hands. 

"He  asks  how  much  we  are  willing  to  take,"  Seager 
explained  to  Arendsen  as  soon  as  the  Due  had  spoken, 
and  looked  curiously  across  at  his  fellow-conspirator. 

"It  will  cost  him  a  hundred  thousand  francs  to  settle 
with  me,"  said  that  individual  decisively.  "And,  look 
here,  Seager !  Be  very  careful  what  you're  about.  I've 
stood  all  I'm  going  to  stand  from  you.  It  will  be  the 
very  worst  night's  work  you  ever  did  if  you  spoil  this 
deal." 

Seager's  face  fell.  He  would  fain  have  exacted  an 
equal  amount  for  himself,  but  the  cold  menace  in  his 
confederate's  hissing  speech  caused  him  no  little  un- 
easiness, and  he  deemed  it  wise  to  be  moderate  in  his 
demands. 

"I  can't  start  life  all  over  again  with  less  than  ten 
thousand  dollars,"  he  snarled,  "and  don't  you  forget, 
Arendsen,  that  what  you  draw  from  the  pool  clears  up 
all 'old  scores  between  you  and  me. 

"We'll  take  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs,"  he 
told  the  Due  brusquely.  "And  you  needn't  haggle 
about  it,  my  friend.  Let  me  tell  you  that  my  cousin 
is  cheap  at  the  price,  even  without  my  uncle's  money — 
money  that  by  rights  is  mine.  You'll  give  us  your 
cheque  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  We'll  take 
you  to  where  she  is,  and  you'll  stay  there  with  her  till 
we've  drawn  the  cash." 

The  Due  did  not  hesitate.  The  payment  of  such  a 
ransom  would  pinch  him  most  sorely,  but  he  could  see 
no  other  resource.  And  it  was  no  time  for  bargaining. 

"Bien,  Monsieur,"  he  agreed.     "I  shall  write  you  a 


278  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

cheque  at  once  if  you  will  allow  me,  and — you  will  re- 
store the  Duchesse  to  me  to-night?" 

Seager  nodded  sulkily,  stung  by  the  thought  that 
he  might  have  had  more  for  the  asking. 

"You'll  write  two  cheques,"  he  stipulated.  "One  for 
a  hundred  thousand,  the  other  for  fifty.  And  you'll 
give  us  your  sacred  word  of  honor  not  to  molest  us  in 
any  way,  either  now  or  afterwards.  Here's  pen  and 
ink.  Don't  waste  time." 

The  Due  took  the  pen  from  him,  bowing. 

"I  give  you  my  word,"  said  he  simply.  "And 

here  are  the  cheques.  They  are  both  'to  bearer.'  They 
will  be  honored  whenever  you  care  to  present  them. 
Now — let  us  go,  if  you  will  be  so  good." 

"Can  we  trust  him?"  asked  Arendsen  doubtfully. 

"How  can  we  help  ourselves?"  Seager  demanded, 
and  led  the  way  to  the  door. 

The  Due  followed  him,  and  Arendsen  followed  the 
Due  very  closely,  but  such  precaution  proved  needless, 
for  Monsieur,  having  resigned  himself  to  their  de- 
mands, had  no  intention  of  breaking  the  promise  which 
he  had  made  them.  Seager  hailed  a  cab  as  soon  as  he 
reached  the  street,  Arendsen  shepherded  the  Due  into 
it,  and  the  three  drove  off  together  in  the  direction  of 
the  Latin  Quarter. 

Seated,  silent,  within  the  cab,  as  it  rumbled  noisily 
down  the  street,  entirely  sober  again  and  thus  dismally 
disappointed  in  all  his  long-cherished  anticipation,  Sea- 
ger had  time  to  think  over  his  own  grievances  against 
fate.  And  these  began  to  loom  ever  more  loftily  be- 
fore his  mental  vision.  What  were  a  paltry  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  to  him  in  comparison  with  the  ten  millions 
the  man  at  his  side  had  cost  him!  And  why  should 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  279 

Arendsen  reap  so  much  more  than  himself  from  their 
mutual  venture !  Were  all  his  own  dreams  to  come  to 
naught  thus  tamely? 

His  hands  were  clenched,  his  forehead  damp,  he 
could  have  gnashed  his  teeth  and  cried  aloud  in  im- 
potent despair  while  his  mind,  twisting,  turning,  in  the 
mesh  of  circumstance,  could  find  no  outlet  from  such 
pitiful  predicament.  The  trundling  cab  was  traveling 
too  fast  for  him.  He  wanted  time  to  think.  There 
must  be  some  way  out,  some  slim  last  chance  for  him 
to  clutch  at. 

There  was! 

The  inspiration  came  to  him  almost  too  late.  There 
was  a  way,  a  way  not  perhaps  altogether  clear  but  well 
worth  following  toward  that  result  for  which  his  long- 
ing had  grown  well-nigh  insupportable  since  it  had 
seemed  beyond  his  utmost  reach.  The  cab  had  crossed 
the  bridge.  There  was  no  time  now  to  explain  to 
Arendsen — but  he  would  surely  understand  that  the 
game  was  still  worth  the  candle.  They  were  not  going 
to  give  ten  millions — and  the  girl — up  without  a  final 
desperate  effort. 

"Dirck !"  he  said  whispering  excitedly,  while  the  Due 
strove  to  understand,  "I've  got  a  plan,  one  that  can't 
fail  us.  I'll  tell  you  afterwards.  We  must  take  Maitre 
Georges  along." 

Dirck  Arendsen  appeared  to  cogitate,  but  only  for 
a  moment.  He  too  had  been  regretting  very  bitterly 
the  paltry  outcome  of  their  enterprise.  He  was  still 
to  be  tempted  by  the  bait  of  ultimate  success. 

"All  right,"  he  answered.  "We'll  take  him  along. 
It's  at  your  risk." 

The  cab  was  stopped.     Seager  jumped  out,  after  a 


s8o  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

hasty  word  of  explanation  to  the  Due,  who  sat  impa- 
tiently with  Arendsen  until  the  former  came  back  ac- 
companied by  a  little,  mean-looking,  black-clad  fellow 
who  clambered  in  with  a  nod  of  greeting,  and  they 
drove  on  to  the  corner  of  the  Impasse  de  Paradis  where 
they  all  alighted.  The  cab  was  dismissed,  and,  after  it 
had  driven  away,  the  four  turned  down  the  cul-de-sac 
toward  the  deserted  house  at  the  top  of  which  the 
Duchesse  was  confined. 

Monsieur  le  Due  was  no  coward,  and  yet  he  shivered 
involuntarily  as  he  followed  Seager  into  the  dark,  dank 
corridor,  while  Arendsen  carefully  closed  and  locked 
the  door  behind  the  soft-footed  stranger  they  had 
picked  up. 

"Tread  quietly,"  Seager  commanded,  and  they 
climbed  with  all  precaution  to  the  first  floor,  entering 
a  room  whose  door  opened  noiselessly  under  his  care- 
ful manipulation. 

He  struck  a  light,  which  he  applied  to  a  tallow  can- 
dle stuck  in  a  bottle  upon  a  table  littered  with  the  re- 
mains of  a  meal.  The  Due  looked  about  him  anxiously, 
and  his  heart  sank  at  what  he  saw.  The  window 
was  strongly  shuttered  and  he  was  alone  there  with 
this  most  unprepossessing  pair. 

The  little  man  had  not  entered,  was  waiting  outside 
in  a  state  of  extreme  perturbation.  For  Maitre 
Georges,  sworn  notary  public,  and  the  most  rascally 
among  the  rascals  of  his  profession  in  Paris,  had  been 
mixed  up  in  many  shady  transactions,  and  not  a  few 
which  were  criminal,  but  in  none  heretofore  which 
promised  so  ill  as  this.  But  the  advanced  fee  he  had 
pocketed  that  afternoon  had  been  a  very  liberal  one, 
and  the  assurance  of  a  still  more  handsome  douceur 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  281 

in  return  for  his  services  had  served  to  still  his  few 
qualms  of  conscience.  His  fears  also  kept  him  quietly 
waiting  where  he  was  until  his  clients  should  call  upon 
him. 

They  came  forth,  ten  minutes  later,  the  two  of  them, 
leaving  the  room  in  which  they  had  been  dark  and 
strangely  silent,  and  Seager,  groping  for  him  in  the 
gloom,  laid  a  hand  on  his  sleeve,  causing  him  to  start 
aside  in  sudden  alarm. 

"I  want  you  to  solemnize  my  marriage,  now,  Maitre 
Georges,"  said  his  strange  client  in  a  very  tremulous 
voice.  "The  lady's  waiting  upstairs — come  this  way. 
You  have  all  the  papers  prepared,  haven't  you?" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

TIME  IS  MONEY AT  THE  RATE  OF  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

Quaintance,  backed  to  the  wall  on  the  landing  at  the 
top  of  the  stairs,  heard  them  coming.  He  pushed 
O'Ferral  and  Cornoyer  toward  the  open  door  of  the 
box-room  behind,  and  they  all  slipped  soundlessly  into 
it,  not  daring  even  to  whisper.  And,  presently,  three 
pairs  of  shuffling  feet  came  to  a  stop  on  the  landing 
outside,  a  key  turned  in  the  locked  door. 

The  feet  shuffled  onward.  It  seemed  that  another 
door  barred  their  way.  That  in  turn  opened  with  a 
faint  click.  A  ray  of  light  shot  outward  ere  it  closed 
again.  A  man's  voice  spoke,  and  was  answered  by  a 
woman's. 

"She's  in  there,"  said  Quaintance,  under  his  breath, 
and  tiptoed  from  his  hiding-place. 

O'Ferral,  following,  caught  at  his  arm. 

"Don't  burst  in  on  them.  Let's  hear  all  those  fel- 
lows have  to  say  first,  if  we  possibly  can.  They  haven't 
locked  the  door  behind  them.  We're  free  of  the  meet- 
ing." 

They  halted  within  the  passage  between  the  two 
doors,  and  listened  intently,  without  compunction. 
Quaintance  had  one  hand  on  the  key,  one  ear  at  the 
keyhole. 

Within,  in  the  dimly  lighted,  dishevelled  studio,  the 
Duchesse  and  Fanchette  had  sprung  to  their  feet  as 

282 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  283 

Seager  pushed  past  the  frail  barricade  they  had  erected 
lest  anyone  entering  should  surprise  them  asleep.  Af- 
ter him  came  another,  a  little,  wizened,  dried-up  man- 
nikin,  black-clad,  of  evil  countenance,  behind  whom 
appeared  Arendsen,  his  swart  features  grimly  inflexible. 
He  pulled  the  door  to,  and  Seager  spoke  first. 

"Hope  you  haven't  been  anxious  while  I've  been 
away,  Dagmar,"  he  observed  with  pretentious  solici- 
tude. "I  couldn't  get  back  any  sooner.  I've  been  very 
busy  on  your  behalf  the  whole  day,  and — I've  brought 
you  news.  I  was  going  to  say  bad  news,  but  better  be 
honest.  It  isn't  bad  news  for  either  of  us,  and — I'm 
sure  you  won't  break  your  heart  over  it :  your  husband 
was  nothing  to  you,  you  know.  He's  dead,  Dagmar. 
Dropped  off  quite  suddenly — heart  disease,  the  doc- 
tors say." 

She  stared  at  him,  in  doubt  and  dismay  unspeakable, 
striving  to  understand,  fain  to  disbelieve  what  he  said. 
But  his  eyes  did  not  drop  before  hers  as  usual.  He 
gave  her  back  glance  for  glance,  boldly,  seemed  to  be 
speaking  the  truth.  And,  little  cause  as  she  had  to  es- 
teem the  Due,  the  shock  of  such  news,  told  thus,  al- 
most stunned  her. 

"What  your  cousin  says  is  quite  true,  Miss — 
Duchess,"  Arendsen  affirmed  solemnly.  "This  gen- 
tleman is  a  lawyer.  He'll  tell  you  anything  else  you 
may  wish  to  know." 

She  darted  a  quick,  despairing  glance  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Maitre  Georges,  and  that  individual,  well  primed 
with  whispered  instructions  by  Seager  on  their  way  up- 
stairs, shambled  forward. 

"Alas!  Madame,"  said  he  with  a  great  assumption 
of  sympathy,  "what  my  friends  tell  you  is  a  sad  fact. 


284  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

M.    le    Due   lies    dead— downstairs.      The    body   was 
brought  hither  that — that — that " 

The  clock  in  the  corner  struck  the  hour  with  a  sud- 
den, sonorous  clang,  and  almost  instantly  Notre  Dame 
tolled  eleven. 

The  Duchesse  shivered  violently,  leaned  still  more 
heavily  on  Fanchette's  trembling  arm.  Seager  started 
forward. 

"Come,  Dagmar,"  he  said,  in  what  he  meant  for  a 
tender  tone,  "you  mustn't  give  way,  you  know.  It's 
sudden,  of  course,  but  think — it's  all  for  the  best,  isn't 
it!  He  was  nothing  to  you,  and — you're  free  of  him 
now.  Think  what  that  means  to  you — and  to  me." 

His  face  darkened  as  she  shrank  from  him  in  such 
loathing  as  was  plain  to  all.  And,  spurred  on  by  a  viru- 
lent glance  from  Arendsen,  he  made  his  fell  purpose 
more  clear  to  her. 

"This  is  no  time  to  stand  on  ceremony.  You  know 
what  I  want  you  to  do  for  me,  Dagmar,  and — you're 
free  to  marry  me  now.  Take  my  word  for  that — or,  if 
you  won't,  we'll  take  you  downstairs  and  show  you  the 
body.  It  was  brought  here  to  satisfy  you  that  you're 
really  free. 

"And  just  think  of  me  as  well  as  yourself,"  he  went 
on  querulously.  "I'm  more  than  fully  entitled  to  my 
half  of  our  uncle's  fortune,  and  you'll  be  none  the  worse 
of  the  other  half  either.  It  will  do  you  no  harm  to  go 
through  the  form  of  marriage  with  me,  and  I'll  swear 
you'll  never  see  me  again  after  that  unless  you  send 
for  me.  All  I  want's  the  marriage  certificate,  to  show 
to  the  lawyers  in  San  Francisco — a  little  enough  thing, 
too,  considering  all  that  my  uncle  did  for  you.  You 
will,  Dagmar,  won't  you?  For  my  sake!" 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  285 

He  looked  at  her  in  impatient  appeal,  a  great  sense  of 
his  own  unfortunate  plight  moving  him  to  unusual 
pathos.  And  she  at  length  spoke. 

"I  will  not,"  she  said  very  distinctly. 

Seager's  gaze  shifted  to  the  clock  and  returned  to 
her. 

"By  God.  But  you  will,  my  girl,"  he  cried  hoarsely, 
glaring  at  her,  quite  beside  himself,  "and  without  any 
more  ado.  If  you  won't  be  led  I'm  the  man  to  drive 
you. 

"Get  your  papers  ready,  you  fool !"  he  snarled  to  the 
cringing  notary. 

"Dirck,  drag  that  old  hag  away  and  keep  her  quiet 
till  she's  wanted.  She'll  have  to  sign  as  a  witness  after 
we're  through  with  the  ceremony." 

He  strode  over  to  the  Duchesse,  his  hands  raised 
to  wrest  her  from  Fanchette,  his  face  flushed,  his  eyes 
shot  with  blood,  blindly  set  in  his  desperate  purpose. 
And  Arendsen,  at  his  shoulder,  no  less  determined, 
had  clutched  cruelly  at  the  old  serving-woman's  arm 
when  a  stifled  exclamation  from  Maitre  Georges,  very 
busy  in  the  background  with  his  portfolio,  caused  them 
to  turn  on  their  heels. 

"Hands  up,  both  of  you!"  snapped  a  voice  that 
sounded  to  them  like  the  crack  of  doom,  and  both 
withdrew  empty  hands  from  behind  their  backs,  raised 
these  in  instant  obedience  before  two  revolvers,  cocked, 
not  a  foot  from  their  foreheads. 

"Step  back  to  the  wall,"  commanded  their  captors, 
pressing  upon  them,  and  they  were  wise  enough  to 
comply  without  a  second's  delay. 

"  'Bout  face !    Keep  your  hands  up." 

They  turned,  and  remained  in  that  ignominious  pos- 


286  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

ture  while  the  whining  Maitre  Georges  was  inducted 
between  them  by  the  third  of  the  three  men  who  had 
thus  surprised  them,  and  who  forthwith  relieved  Sea- 
ger  and  Arendsen  of  the  concealed  weapons  they  car- 
ried. Maitre  Georges,  it  seemed,  was  unarmed. 

"  'Bout  face !"  once  more  came  the  crackling  com- 
mand, and  they  faced  about  like  automatons,  Maitre 
Georges  moving  instinctively  with  the  others. 

"Now  stay  where  you  are.  You  may  drop  your 
hands,  but  the  first  of  you  who  makes  the  slightest 
movement  otherwise  will  make  no  more.  Under- 
stand?" 

Seager  nodded.  He  was  breathing  stertorously, 
through  set  teeth,  eyes  dilated,  unable  to  comprehend 
what  had  happened.  Arendsen  nodded  also,  against 
his  will,  in  answer  to  a  significant  crooking  of  his  ques- 
tioner's trigger-finger.  And,  "Oui,  oui,  Monsieur!" 
•wailed  Maitre  Georges,  no  less  bewildered  but  very 
anxious  to  save  his  own  skin. 

"Keep  an  eye  on  them  for  a  moment,  O'Ferral,  and 
you  too,  J.  J.,"  said  the  same  speaker,  and  turned  to 
where  the  Duchesse  and  Fanchette  were  still  standing 
in  almost  equal  amazement. 

"Your  pardon,"  he  said,  bowing  courteously,  and 
both  recognized  him  at  the  same  instant.  He  was  the 
same  man  whom  the  Duchesse  had  met  first  at  Mar- 
tin's, then  on  the  seashore  at  Stormport,  and  lastly,  at 
the  Elysee,  the  same  man  to  whom  Fanchette  had  sold 
her  mistress's  runabout,  whose  car  she  had  comman- 
deered. "Your  pardon,"  said  he,  bowing  courteously, 
"but  we've  overheard  all  that's  passed.  We  were  wait- 
ing outside— at  your  service.  Won't  you,  please,  sit 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  287 

down.  You  have  nothing  more  to  fear  from  those  fel- 
lows, and " 

He  sprang  forward,  caught  at  the  Duchesse  or  she 
would  have  fallen.  Her  overtaxed  strength  had  failed 
her,  and  she  lay  helpless  in  his  arms  for  a  blissful  mo- 
ment ere  he  carried  her  to  the  sofa  and  set  her  down 
tenderly  there. 

Fanchette,  scarcely  less  overcome,  flew  to  her,  and 
for  a  brief  space  they  mingled  their  tears,  sobbing 
without  restraint  since  the  most  hurtful  strain  of  the 
terror  they  had  undergone  was  thus  lately  relieved. 
And  the  chief  of  their  rescuers  stood  staring  wickedly 
at  their  aggressors  until  the  sobs  ceased,  the  Duchesse 
looked  up  woefully,  and  met  his  eyes  again,  so  that 
their  anger  died  and  there  was  only  left  in  them  a  look 
of  longing,  at  which  she  flushed,  so  faintly  that  he 
did  not  notice  it. 

"Tell  me  what  has  happened,  please,  Mr.  Newman/' 
she  begged  piteously,  ignoring  all  else  in  her  stress  of 
mind.  "I  have  been  held  prisoner  here  for  twenty-four 
hours,  and — I  don't  understand." 

"I  must  tell  you,  to  start  with,"  said  Quaintance 
quickly,  "and  I  must  ask  you  'to  believe  all  I  say  with- 
out question  meantime,  that  my  name  isn't  Newman. 
I'm  Stephen  Quaintance,  Miles  Quaintance's  nephew." 

"You're  a  damned  liar,"  cried  Seager  from  the  back- 
ground, furiously,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment. 
"I'm  Stephen  Quaintance,  not  you.  And  I  can  prove 
what  I  say.  Don't  believe  him,  Dagmar.  He  must  be 
mad !" 

Quaintance  wheeled  toward  him  with  a  look  which 
boded  him  ill. 

"You  ring  off,"  he  ordered  imperatively.     "Break 


288  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

his  head  with  the  butt  of  your  gun,  O'Ferral,  if  he 
opens  his  mouth  again  till  he's  told  to." 

O'Ferral  made  as  if  to  obey  him,  and  Seager  sub- 
sided, glaring,  with  twitching  lips,  his  mind  in  a  fer- 
ment. 

"I  changed  my  name  because  of  my  uncle's  will,  and 
so  that  you  shouldn't  have  to  marry  me.  You  are  Dag- 
mar  Lorraine,  aren't  you?" 

She  nodded. 

"And  Duchesse  des  Reves,"  she  said  drearily,  op- 
pressed anew  by  the  knowledge  that  neither  man  nor 
woman  may  safely  interfere  with  the  dictates  of  fate. 
"I  married  the  Due  des  Reves  as  soon  as  I  heard  of 
Mr.  Quaintance's  death,  to  escape " 

"To  escape  me,"  Quaintance  supplemented,  as  she 
paused,  at  a  loss  to  explain  herself  without  hurting  his 
feelings.  He  lowered  his  voice. 

"I  made  the  mistake  of  my  life  when  I  discarded  my 
own  identity,  Dagmar.  But  I  did  it  for  your  sake,  that 
you  might  have  my  uncle's  money  and  your  own  free- 
•dom." 

Her  eyes  fell  again  before  his  and  the  story  they 
told  her.  Her  face  was  suffused  now.  But  she  would 
be  honest  with  him  at  all  costs.  "I,  too,  made  a  great 
mistake,"  she  said,  very  gravely,  in  a  low  whisper,  and 
Fanchette,  an  arm  about  her,  fondled  her  trembling 
hand. 

"We  have  both  paid  very  dearly  for  our  independ- 
ence," commented  Quaintance  in  a  grievous  voice,  "but 
— you  are  safe  now  at  any  rate." 

"They  tell  me  my  husband  is  dead,"  she  said,  start- 
ing up,  suddenly  recalled  to  the  actualities  of  her  posi- 
tion. "They  say  he's  dead — here,  downstairs." 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  289 

Seager  had  overheard  her.  He  had  been  watching 
them  with  a  ferocious  intensity,  knew  all  that  he  needed 
to  know  for  the  present.  His  drawn  face  shaped  itself 
to  a  grin,  cruel,  mocking,  malevolent.  It  might  be  too 
late  now  to  win  the  hazard  himself,  but — he  could  still 
spoil  their  chances  of  happiness. 

"The  Due  is  not  dead,"  he  cried  across,  braving 
O'Ferral's  uplifted  pistol.  "We  only  drugged  him.  He 
is  not  dead." 

He  licked  his  lips  at  sight, of  the  shadow  which  came 
down  on  Quaintance's  face.  So  much  at  least  of  the 
score  between  them,  he  had  paid  off.  For,  the  Due 
living,  and  since  he  himself  must  perforce  give  up  all 
hope  of  winning  Miles  Quaintance's  millions,  ,the  man 
whose  birthright  he  would  have  usurped  was  no  better 
off.  And  neither  could  gain  the  girl. 

But  his  heart  failed  him  utterly  as  O'Ferral  spoke, 
with  a  quiet  certainty  which  appalled  him.  And  Arend- 
sen  also  cowered  and  shuddered  under  the  portent  of 
these  curt  words. 

"The  Due  des  Reves  is  dead,"  said  the  correspon- 
dent. "I  went  down  to  see  him  myself.  You  must 
have  drugged  him  too  deeply.  He's  been  dead  for  a 
good  half-hour." 

They  looked  at  the  clock.  It  wanted  but  twenty 
minutes  to  midnight.  And  no  more  was  said  for  a 
space,  so  harshly  had  the  horror  of  it  all  gripped  their 
minds. 

"7  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  Arendsen  urged,  his 
strangled  words  breaking  the  tense  silence.  Seager 
stood  huddled,  .shrinking,  against  the  wall,  Cornoyer, 
revolver  in  hand,  confronting  him  watchfully.  The 


290  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

man's  lips  were  blue,  his  face  the  color  of  chalk.  His 
ringers  were  twitching  impotently. 

"I  had- nothing  to  do  with  it.    It  was  Seager  who — " 

"You  held  him,  curse  you,  you  dog!"  his  accom- 
plice cried  with  a  sudden,  futile  access  of  fury.  "You 
had  just  as  much  to  do  with  it  as  anyone  else."  And 
they  glared  ever  more  venomously  at  each  other  across 
Maitre  Georges,  who  stood,  trembling,  terror-stricken, 
between  them. 

"You'll  both  have  to  answer  for  it,  anyhow,"  Quaint- 
ance  told  them  concisely.  "And  the  best  thing  you  can 
do. in  the  meantime  is  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  as  to 

the Speak  up,   Seager,  since  that's  your  name. 

Let's  hear  your  story  first  and  from  the  beginning. 
How  did  you  get  hold  of  my  papers?  .And  where  are 
they?" 

Seager  slowly  straightened  his  shaking  knees,  and 
stood  .for  a  moment,  head  bent,  hands  clawing  con- 
vulsively at  the  plaster  of  the  wall  behind  him,  eyes 
darting  hither  and  thither,  teeth  showing,  like  a  trapped 
rat.  Then  he  spoke,  huskily,  making  .full  confession, 
incriminating  Dirck  Arendsen  whenever  he  could.  But 
Black  Dirck  looked  straight  before  him,  and  listened, 
speechless.  The  clock  ticked  on. in  its  corner. 

When  everything  was  clear  to  them,  O'Ferral  disre- 
garding all  else,  made  a  quick  suggestion  to  Quaint- 
ance. 

"Steve,"  said  he,  without  relaxing  his  vigilance,  for 
Seager  was  eyeing  him  very  closely  now,  on  the  alert 
for. any  least  opportunity  to  spring  past  him,  a  chance, 
however  remote,  of  making  a  last  dash  for  liberty. 
"Steve,"  said  he  sharply,  "the  notary's  here,  with  the 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  291 

documents  all  drawn  out,  and — it's  ten  to .  twelve. 
There's  a  million  a  minute  to  be  had  for  the  taking." 

Quaintance  nodded,  without  a  word.  He  crossed  to 
the  door  and  locked  it  on  the  inside,  withdrawing  the 
key.  Then  he  signed  to  the  Duchesse,  and  she  fol- 
lowed him  dumbly  to  the  furthest  corner  of  the  long 
room.  They  sat  down  together  there,  and  the  clock 
ticked  on. 

The  three  men,  their  backs  to  the  wall,  watched  the 
minutes  pass  one  by  one,  and  soon,  "Five  millions  gone 
— five  minutes  I  mean,"  said  O'Ferral  warningly.  .But 
from  the  corner  came  only  a  faint  whispering. 

"You're  free  now,  dear  heart,"  said  Quaintance  to 
the  Duchesse,  looking  with  a  new  and  wonderful  knowl- 
edge into  the  depths  of  her  tear-dimmed  eyes.  "We've 
strayed  very  far  apart  in  our  ignorance.  "We've  done 
each  other  much  hurt.  But  you're  free  at  last." 

Her  heart  was  beating  tumultuously,  her  white 
bosom  rose  and  fell  stormily  to  the  stress  within.  She 
was  doubly  beautiful  in  her  distress,  and  he  longed 
above  all  things  to  take  her  into  his  arms,  and  comfort 
her  there.  If  she  would  only  give  him  the  right  to  do 
that . 

"I  meant  very  well  by  you,"  he  went  on  humbly, 
"and,  surely  you  will  not  blame  me  for  the  wrong  I 
unwittingly  did.  Since  the  very  first  day  I  saw  you  I 
have  had  no  peace  of  mind,  and — and  I  didn't  know 
then  who  you  were.  It  is  for  yourself  that  I  love  you, 
and,  if  you  think  as  I  do,  we'll  keep  our  hands  clean, 
let  my  uncle's  millions  go  hang.  Tell  me  what  you 
would  have  me  do.  Don't  let  us  make  any  more  mis- 
takes. Life's  far  too  short  to  waste  it  in  that  way. 

"Trust  me,  dear,"  he  urged.   "Let  me  stand  between 


292  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

you  and  further  harm.  You  are  alone  here  in  Paris. 
There's  trouble  of  all  sorts  ahead.  You  need  someone 
to  see  you  through.  Why  not  take  me — now — for 
what  I  am  worth,  if  you  will?  This  notary,  scoundrel 
though  he  is,  may  legally  marry  us.  The  papers  .are 
all  prepared,  in  my  rightful  name.  All  I  ask  till  you're 
willing  to  give  me  morels  the  privilege  of  protecting 
you.  Say  something,  Dagmar,  but — For  God's  sake, 
don't  say  no !" 

She  had  moved  a  little  apart  from  him,  timidly. 
What  he  asked  of  her  seemed  so  absolutely  impossible 
then — and  under  such  circumstances.  But  his  eyes 
still  held  hers  insistently,  and  what  she ,  saw  in  them 
she  had  no  strength  to  withstand. 

Her  eyelids  drooped  to  hide  the  sign  of  surrender. 
The  way  had  been  long  and  weary,  but  here  at  last 
was  the  haven  which  she  had  missed.  What  the  world 
would  say  mattered  nothing  while  they  two  .  .  . 

"You  know — all?"  she  asked,  hurriedly.  "I  am 
Duchesse  des  Reves  in  name  only,  and," — she  glanced 
very  wistfully  up  at  him — "and  a  pauper  in  my  own 
right." 

"I  am  not  altogether  a  pauper,"  he  answered  gladly, 
"but — had  you  been  a  princess,  sweetheart,  I  might 
not  have  been  so  bold.  And — you'll  agree?  Immedi- 
ately after  twelve." 

"Any  time  after  twelve,"  she  assented  in  a  low  whis- 
per, and  he  gathered  her  into  his  strong  arms,  kissed 
her  unkissed  lips,  clasped  her  close  to  him,  regardless 
of  those  looking  on. 

The  clock  in  the  corner  chimed  twelve,  and  Notre 
Dame  echoed  the  hour  of  midnight.  She  looked  up 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  293 

at  him  again,  with  a  little  frightened  smile.     A  stifled 
groan  came  from  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"We're  all  ready  now,"  Quaintance  called  across. 
"Tell  that  lawyer  rascal  to  step  forward  and  marry  us." 

Maitre  Georges  stepped  forward  submissively,  and 
they  two  faced  him,  the  Duchesse  still  in  her 
robe  of  state,  like  some  beautiful,  slender  lily,  the  lamp- 
light warm  on  her  ivory  arms  and  shoulders,  Quaint- 
ance, tall  and  straight,  in  a  ^uit  of  serge,  at  her  side,  his 
thin,  sun-tanned  face  a  fit  foil  to  her  shapely  fairness. 
Behind  stood  Fanchette,  with  clasped  hands,  her  worn 
features  working.  And,  from  opposite,  Seager  and 
Arendsen  looked  on,  impotent,  at  the  simple  ceremony, 
while  their  two  guards,  revolver  in  hand,  kept  watch 
and  ward  over  all. 

Maitre  Georges  performed  his  part  most  decorously, 
and  in  the  shortest  possible  space  of  time  the  widowed 
Duchesse  des  Reves  was  the  lawful  wife  of  Stephen 
Quaintance,  sometime  known  as  A.  Newman:  all  as 
set  forth,  signed,  sealed,  and  witnessed  in  a  very  precis 
of  the  proceedings,  with  an  exact  note  of  the  day  and 
hour,  drawn  up  by  the  notary  under  that  gentleman's 
personal  supervision. 

Which  done,  Quaintance  drew  his  wife's  arm  through 
his. 

"And  now  we'll  face  the  music  together,  sweetheart," 
said  he  resolutely,  "if  you'll  send  Fanchette  down  to 
fetch  in  the  police." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

FATE  OPENS  A  NEW  ACCOUNT  WITH  QUAINTANCE AT 

THE  NIGHT  AND  DAY  BANK 

On  a  crisp  winter's  afternoon  the  gardens  of  Madi- 
son Square  were  all  bedecked  in  white,  as  if  for  a  bridal. 
The  leafless  trees  wore  festoons  of  crystal  and  ropes  of 
pearls.  From  the  fountain  rose  a  solid  column  of  sil- 
ver, wet,  glistening. 

The  buildings  about  it  were  brave  with  diamond- 
like  pendants  which  sparkled  and  shone  as  they  dripped 
under  a  brilliant  blink  of  late  sunshine.  Only  the  paths 
and  streets  where  the  traffic  flowed  showed  black 
against  winter's  robe,  their  uproar  an  octave  lower  un- 
der the  carpet  which  covered  them. 

Frost  and  snow  and  sunshine  together  had  turned 
the  drab  park  into  fairyland,  or  so  thought  Quaintance, 
at  any  rate,  as  he  stepped  out  into  the  pillared  porch 
of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  his  wife  on  his  arm.  They 
paused  for  a  moment  to  look  thankfully  out  at  the  scene 
there,  and  then,  crossing  Broadway  carefully,  turned 
up  Fifth  Avenue,  in  haste  because  of  the  cold. 

Only  an  hour  ago  they  had  stepped  ashore  from  the 
steamer  which  had  brought  them  over  from  France, 
and,  even  on  the  voyage  across,  they  had  not,  some- 
how, succeeded  in  shaking  off  the  remembrance  of  all 
they  had  undergone  there.  But  now,  at  last,  they  could 

294 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  295 

realize  that  their  troubles  were  at  an  end,  could  turn 
their  backs  on  that  nightmare  past. 

The  murder  of  the  Due  des  Reves  had  made  a  nine 
days'  sensation  in  Paris.  The  trial,  on  that  capital 
charge,  of  Seager  and  Arendsen,  provided  the  papers 
with  scare-headlines  for  a  full  month,  but,  when  all  the 
formalities  of  the  law  had  been  fulfilled  and  the  two 
sent  to  the  galleys  to  expiate  there  the  crime  they  had 
not  contemplated,  the  public  drew  a  deep  breath  of  re- 
lief, passed  on  to  the  next  cause  celebre  with  a  cynical 
shrug  of  the  shoulders  which  was  Monsieur's  sole  epi- 
taph. For  Etienne  Aiglemont  Saint-Georges  Lorillard, 
Due  des  Reves,  Vicomte  Aiglemont,  Seigneur  de  La 
Roche-Segur,  was  also  held  to  have  met  with  his  due 
deserts. 

With  him  no  one  sympathized  either,  and,  since 
Madame  la  Duchesse,  his  widow,  was  quite  unknown 
to  the  world  at  large,  she  escaped  sympathy  and  cen- 
sure alike.  O'Ferral's  influence,  public  and  private,  a 
factor  much  more  powerful  than  had  been  apparent, 
had  served  to  save  her  all  undesirable  notoriety. 
Quaintance  had  engaged  on  her  behalf  and  his  own  the 
best  legal  talent  at  the  French  bar.  In  the  end  they 
came  scatheless  out  of  a  situation  unenviable  in  the  ex- 
treme. And,  as  soon  as  it  could  conveniently  be  accom- 
plished, Quaintance  had  brought  her  back  home. 

Small  wonder  then,  that  they  looked  about  them 
with  thankful  hearts  and  glad  eyes  as  they  threaded  the 
hurrying  throng  on  the  avenue. 

At  thought  of  their  late  independence  they  smiled 
happily  to  each  other,  and  two  or  three  of  the  passers- 
by,  observing  the  couple,  turned  to  look  back  at  them 
over  their  shoulders.  They  were  very  good  to  look  at, 


296  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

and  their  glad  faces  were  very  well  worth  a  second 
glance  on  a  winter's  day. 

"Where  are  we  going,  dear?"  she  asked  him,  and  he 
gazed  lovingly  down  at  the  radiant  features  upturned 
from  their  nest  of  furs.  She  was  his  wife  now,  this 
dainty,  delicate  creature,  for  whom-  he  had  fought  and 
suffered  as  a  man  must  to  know  the  true  value  of  vic- 
tory. And  it  seemed  the  more  miraculous  when  he 
recalled  the  last  time  he  had  sauntered  up  the  avenue, 
alone,  with  no  least  thought  of  what  fate  held  in  store 
for  him.  He  laughed  aloud  as  he  looked,  but  by  no 
means  because  he  thought  the  conjunction  of  fate  and 
Fifth  Avenue  in  any  way  incongruous. 

"We're  going  as  far's  the  Night  and  Day  Bank, 
sweetheart,"  he  informed  her,  "to  get  you  a  small  wed- 
ding-present I've  had  stowed  away  there  since  I  first 
met  you.  It's  a  long  way  uphill,  and  it  will  be  dark, 
before  we  get  there.  Let's  take  a  cab." 

"Oh  no,"  she  protested,  "I'd  much  rather  walk.  And 
you  must  remember,  Stephen,  how  poor  we  are.  We 
must  be  much  more  economical  now.  I've  cost  you 
such  a  lot  already." 

"All  right,"  he  assented,  with  a  cheerful  smile,  "we'll 
walk  if  you  want  to,  and  spend  the  dollar  we've  saved 
in  some  other  way." 

"We'll  have  to  be  much  more  economical  now,"  she 
repeated  wisely,  "and  everything's  so  expensive  here 
in  New  York." 

They  passed  up  the  hill  together,  on  foot.  At  the 
top  Quaintance  bade  her  turn  and  look  back. 

"It's  good,  isn't  it?"  he  said,  staring  down  at  the 
long,  crowded,  lamp-lit  vista  with  a  sigh  of  sheer  con- 
tent. She  made  no  reply,  but  the  hand  nestling 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  297 

warmly  in  the  crook  of  his  elbow  moved  in  quick,  af- 
firmative pressure. 

"Come  on  now,"  he  ordered.  "It  will  be  dinner- 
time before  we  know  where  we  are. 

"It  was  here  I  first  saw  you,"  he  said,  halting  her 
again  on  the  steps  of  the  bank. 

"And  I  saw  you,"  she  admitted,  blushing.  "You 
were  looking  at  me  so  strangely.  And  I  didn't  under- 
stand. Jules  Chevrel  was  waiting  for  me  in  the  cross- 
street.  I  was  horribly  frightened  then." 

"The — the  dog!"  said  he,  explosively.  "If  I  ever 
come  across  him  again,  it  will  be  a  bad  day  for  him." 

"And  yet,  but  for  him  you'd  never  have  seen  me," 
she  reminded  him. 

He  shook  his  head  solemnly  over  that  undeniable 
fact. 

"True  for  you,"  he  agreed.  "It's  a  queer  thing  that 
his  rascally  machinations  should  have  been  the  means 
of  my  meeting  you.  And  that  reminds  me,  I  must  pay 
you  back  the  thousand  dollars  he  charged  you  for  the 
introduction?" 

"I  think  it's  been  worth  that  to  me,  dear,"  she  whis- 
pered, and  he  slipped  an  arm  round  her  waist  while  he 
led  her  through  the  swing-door  into  the  bank. 

His  former  acquaintance  there  greeted  him  with 
great  deference. 

"Yes,  we  received  all  your  letters,  Mr.  New 

Mr.  Quaintance,"  said  he,  having  been  presented  to 
Mrs.  Quaintance  and  as  soon  as  he  could  bring  himself 
to  give  over  bowing  before  her  beauty,  escape  from 
his  obvious  enchantment  to  the  dry  details  of  business 
again.  "The  Bank  is  perfectly  satisfied,  and  your  old 


298  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

account  will  be  transferred  to  the  new  one  at  once.  Will 
you  please  record  your  usual  signature  here. 

"  'Stephen  Quaintance.'  Quite  so.  I  thank  you. 
No,  not  at  all — it's  a  pleasure.  An  account  for  Mrs. 
Quaintance  ?  We  shall  be  only  too  pleased.  You  sign 
here,  Mrs.  Quaintance,  just  under  your  husband's 
name.  Mr.  Quaintance's  cheque  on  ourselves  for  a 
thousand  dollars  as  first  deposit.  Quite  so.  I  thank 
you." 

He  handed  the  blushing  bride  her  own  private  pass- 
book and  a  slim  folio  containing  checks  And  he  was 
still  bowing  delightedly  when  Quaintance  bethought 
himself  of  the  diamonds.  These  were  promptly  pro- 
duced and  delivered  into  his  own  hands. 

She  looked  down,  entranced,  at  the  lambent,  rose- 
colored  stones,  one  in  each  pink  palm. 

"Oh,  Stephen!"  she  cried  in  a  low  and  tremulous 
voice,  looking  up  at  him,  "they're  far  too  splendid  for 
me.  You  should  have  married  a  princess !" 

"He  has,"  ejaculated  the  banker,  before  he  could 
recollect  himself,  and  drew  back  in  direct  confusion. 
Quaintance  grinned  most  amiably  in  his  direction. 

"Here,  give  them  to  me,"  he  requested,  and  tucked 
them  into  one  of  his  waistcoat-pockets.  "We'll  take 
them  to  Tiffany's  in  the  morning  and  have  them  set. 
And  meantime  we  must  get  something  to  eat,  some- 
where  " 

He  regarded  his  wife  for  a  moment  with  smiling 
nonchalance,  and, 

"Wait  here  half  a  minute,"  said  he.  "I'll  be  back  be- 
fore you  can  miss  me. 

"Keep  my  wife  in  safe  deposit  for  me,"  he  called  to 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  .     299 

the  banker  as  he  hurried  off  to  carry  out  the  fortuitous 
inspiration  which  had  come  to  him. 

"We  want  something  to  eat,  somewhere  not  too 
dull,"  he  remarked  to  himself  as  he  made  for  the  tele- 
phone booth.  "And  we  can't  do  better  than  dip  into 
Martin's,  eh?" 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  New Mr.  Quaintance,  we  have 

some  letters  for  you,"  the  banker  informed  him  blandly 
when  he  returned.  "I  had  almost  forgotten,  but — here 
they  are." 

"Thanks,"  said  Quaintance,  stuffing  them  hastily  into 
a  coat-pocket.  "Much  obliged  to  you.  Good  night. 
Come  on  Dagmar.  It's  dinner-time." 

She  bade  the  man  of  money  good-bye,  and  was 
handed  into  a  cab  at  the  door  by  her  most  impetuous 
husband 

"Martin's,"  said  he  to  the  cabby,  and  they  were 
whirled  off  down  the  avenue  through  a  snow-shower 
which  made  their  shelter  the  snugger  within. 

"You  don't  mind,  do  you,  dear?"  he  asked  as  they 
drew  up  at  their  destination. 

"Not  with  you,  Stephen,"  she  replied  happily,  "and 
to-night.  But  we  mustn't  be  very  late  or  Fanchette 
will  think  we  are  lost.  And — we  must  really  be  less  ex- 
travagant after  this,  mustn't  we  ?" 

"We  will,"  he  assented,  laughing,  and  led  her  in. 

A  waiter  sprang  toward  them  as  they  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  same  room  in  which  they  had  met,  un- 
known to  each  other  and  under  such  widely  different 
auspices,  a  few  short  months  before. 

"The  same  table,  sir?"  he  suggested  breathlessly, 
and  urged  them  with  eager  hands  in  the  direction  of 
his  own  domain. 


300  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

Quaintance  regarded  him  quizzically. 

"/  did  the  waiting  the  last  time  I  was  here,"  he  re- 
marked, "and  your  shiftlessness  very  nearly  cost  me — 
my  train." 

"Yes,  sir?  I'm  very  sorry,  sir,"  said  the  man,  satis- 
fied that  all  would  go  well.  "But  you  did  catch  it,  sir, 
in  the  end,  didn't  you?" 

Quaintance  frowned  and  smiled  and  sat  down,  under- 
standing the  double  intent  of  the  question  accom- 
panied by  an  ingratiating  smirk.  And  it  happened  thus 
that  he  no  longer  sat  opposite  an  empty  chair  and 
alone,  but  face  to  face  and  at  one  with  the  girl  he  had 
not  dared  to  speak  to  then. 

The  atmosphere  of  Upper  Bohemia  was  redolent  of 
ambrosia  now,  and  Quaintance  found  the  insouciant 
gaiety  of  its  inhabitants  much  more  infectious  than  for- 
merly. 

Outside,  in  the  dark  everyday  world,  it  was  snowing 
silently.  Within  all  was  warmth,  and  light:  not  too 
much  of  the  latter,  but  just  sufficient  to  show  off  fair 
faces,  white  arms  and  shoulders,  bright  eyes.  Soft 
music  swelled  and  ebbed  on  the  fragrant  air,  the  echoes 
of  men's  mirth,  women's  light  laughter  blending  har- 
moniously with  it.  For  there  was  the  land  of  the  lotus, 
where  it  is  always  sunshine  and  summer,  where  night 
is  even  as  day. 

Quaintance  started  as  his  wife  spoke. 

"Are  you  dreaming,  dear?"  she  asked  smilingly. 

"Of  the  last  time,"  he  answered,  squaring  his 
shoulders  again.  "We've  come  through  the  mill  since 
then,  sweetheart,  but — thank  God!  we're  none  the 
worse. 

"Waiter!    We  want  some  dinner — the  best  you  can 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  301 

'do,  only  don't  bother  us.  And  bring  us  a  bottle  of  that 
same  Burgundy,  will  you.  It's  a  lucky  bin." 

All  they  said  to  each  other  over  that  meal  concerns 
themselves  only.  But  it  may  be  stated,  that,  when  it 
was  over  and  Quaintance  had  ordered  coffee,  a  special 
brew  to  be  made  according  to  methods  imparted  to  him 
by  a  merchant  from  Mocha  whom  he  had  once  met  on 
his  travels,  they  both  fell  silent,  looking  about  them 
with  eyes  that  were  very  friendly  and  well  disposed 
toward  the  others  there.  And  they  were  still  sunk  in 
such  wordless  contentment  when  a  cheery  voice  re- 
called them  from  the  clouds. 

"H'lo,  Quaintance!"  it  said,  and  they  looked  up 
swiftly  at  the  grey-haired  individual  in  very  correct 
evening  dress  who  had  come  forward  and  stopped  be- 
side them. 

Quaintance  sprang  to  his  feet,  hand  outstretched. 

"Gad!  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  O'Ferral,"  he  cried. 
"Dagmar,  this  is  a  little  surprise  I  planned  for  you.  I 
didn't  know  whether  O'Ferral  was  in  town  till  I 
'phoned  from  the  bank.  A  chair,  waiter !  Where's  that 
coffee  ?  Fetch  me  my  coat — I  want  my  cigar-case.  Or 
will  you  have  something  to  eat  first,  O'Ferral?" 

"I've  dined,  thanks." 

"Then  have  a  cigar." 

Quaintance  plunged  a  hand  into  his  overcoat-pocket, 
pulled  forth  his  case  and  a  couple  of  letters  which  he 
would  have  tossed  to  one  side  had  not  he  caught  sight 
of  the  postmark  on  one  of  them. 

He  lit  a  match  for  O'Ferral,  and  kindled  his  own 
Havana,  with  frowning  eyes  on  the  envelope.  Then  he 
slit  that  open. 


302  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

"Your  pardon,"  he  said  to  the  other  two,  "but  I  want 
to  see  what  this  fellow  says — and  forget  him." 

His  wife  turned  to  O'Ferral,  to  whom  she  had  much 
to  tell.  Their  voices  sounded  far  away  and  indistinct 
to  him  as  he  stared,  through  a  thin  blue  curtain  of 
smoke,  at  the  paper  before  him.  And  he  stared  at  it 
for  so  long  that  she  at  length  took  him  to  task. 

"What's  the  matter,  Stephen?"  she  asked,  and  her 
eyes  grew  anxious  as  she  observed  the  bewilderment  in 
his  face. 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  as  if  she  had  been  a 
stranger,  and  then  at  O'Ferral. 

"I  wish  you  would  read  that  to  me,"  he  said  in  a 
puzzled  whisper.  "I  don't  seem  to  get  the  sense  of  it. 
That  wine  must  have  gone  to  my  head." 

O'Ferral  glanced  at  the  bottle,  more  than  half  full. 

"You  must  have  a  very  weak  head,  Steve,"  said  he 
concisely,  and  took  the  sheet  from  his  friend. 

But  his  expression  also  changed  as  he  perused  the 
epistle.  He  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  and  pursed  up 
his  mouth. 

"Read  it  aloud,"  Quaintance  ordered.  "It's  from 
San  Francisco,  Dagmar — from  the  lawyers  there.  Go 
on,  O'Ferral.  We're  listening." 

And  O'Ferral  obeyed,  with  good  will. 

"  'Dear  Sir/  "  he  began,  "  'We  duly  received  your 
favor  from  Paris,  enclosing  certificate  of  your  marriage 
to  the  ward  of  our  late  client,  Mr.  Miles  Quaintance,  as 
also  proof  of  your  identity,  which  we  have  since  satis- 
fied ourselves  is  competent.  And  in  this  connection 
we  beg  to  express  our  profound  regret  that  we  were 
misled  into  recognizing  Mr.  Dominic  Seager  in  your 
place,  but,  as  you  yourself  were  admittedly  the  chief 


A  MILLION  A  MINUTE  303 

contributor  to  that  mistake,  we  trust  you  will  not  hold 
us  unduly  blameworthy. 

"  'We  note  that  you  and  your  wife  wished,  at  the 
time  of  your  wedding,  to  forfeit  all  claim  to  our  late 
client's  property,  and  the  steps  you  took  to  do  so. 

"  'You  have  evidently  forgotten,  however,  that  there 
is  a  considerable  difference  in  time  between  France 
and  the  United  States  of  America.  The  certified  hour 
of  your  marriage  was  12.10  a.  m.  in  Paris,  which  in  San 
Francisco  would  be  3.50  p.  m.  of  the  previous  day,  7.05, 
p.  m.  in  New  York  We  have  taken  the  highest  legal 
opinion  on  this  point,  and  it  coincides  with  our  own,, 
viz.,  that  Mr.  Miles  Quaintance,  an  American  citizen,, 
making  his  will  in  America  and  for  the  benefit  of  Amer- 
ican heirs,  did  so  on  the  basis,  only  and  absolutely,  of 
American  time. 

"  'We  have  therefore  felt  compelled,  acting  under 
our  late  client's  explicit  instructions,  to  forward  the 
liquid  assets  of  his  personal  estate  to  the  bank  in  New 
York,  to  which  you  kindly  referred  us.  And  we  wait 
your  orders  as  to  the  disposal  of  the  testator's  real 
property. 

"  'Trusting  to  be  favored  with  your  confidence — We 
have  acted  for  the  late  Mr.  Miles  Quaintance  for 
twenty  years — and  assuring  you  of  our  best  efforts  on 
your  behalf,  we  remain,  yours  faithfully,  Scroggie, 
Naylor,  &  Touchwood/  ' 

Quaintance's  cigar  had  gone  out.  He  was  gazing 
witlessly  at  his  wife,  while  she,  no  less  perturbed, 
looked  blankly  back  at  him.  O'Ferral  glanced  at  his 
watch,  and  was  silent,  waiting  for  them  to  speak.  And 
time  ticked  away,  unheeded. 

The   restaurant   was   beginning   to   empty.      There 


304  A  MILLION  A  MINUTE 

were  vacant  tables  all  round  them.  The  world  without 
was  hushed  by  the  snow. 

Quaintance  sat  up  suddenly  and  his  bent  brows  re- 
laxed. His  wife  leaned  forward.  O'Ferral  regarded 
them  both  approvingly,  with  twinkling  eyes. 

"Well?"  he  demanded,  and  Quaintance  turned  to 
liim  in  surprise. 

"I  had  forgotten  that  you  were  there,  O'Ferral,"  he 
said  simply.  "But  it's  all  true.  There's  no  doubt 
about  it. 

"And  we're  not  going  to  buck  against  fate  any 
more,"  he  informed  his  wife.  "We've  hurt  ourselves 
too  badly  at  that  game  already." 

"You  mean  that  we  must  keep  all  that  money?"  she 
asked. 

"Most  of  it.  We  can't  well  help  ourselves.  But 
we  won't  let  the  charities  suffer,  and — and  we'll  forgive 
Miles  Quaintance — as  much  as  we  can.  We'll  take  it 
that  he  at  least  meant  well  by  you  and  me,  dear." 

O'Ferral  pulled  out  his  watch  again. 

"Time  flies,"  he  averred,  "and  so  must  I.  I  only 
looked  in  on  my  way  uptown  to  shake  hands  with  you 
both.  And,  d'you  know,  Steve,  that  you've  been  think- 
ing it  out  at  the  rate  of  a  million  a  minute !" 


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Carolina  Lee  is  the  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  of  Christian  Science.  Its 
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all  good  things  which  may  be  obtainable.  When  the  tale  is  told,  the 
sick  healed,  wrong  changed  to  right,  poverty  of  purse  and  spirit 
turned  into  riches,  lovers  made  worthy  of  each  other  and  happily 
united,  including  Carolina  Lee  and  her  affinity,  it  is  borne  upon  the 
reader  that  he  nas  been  giving  rapid  attention  to  a  free  lecture  on 
Christian  Science  ;  that  the  working  out  of  each  character  is  an  argu- 
ment for  "  Faith ;"  and  that  the  theory  is  persuasively  attractive. 

A  Christian  Science  novel  that  will  bnng  delight  to  the  heart  of 
every  believer  in  that  faith.  It  is  a  well  told  story,  entertaining,  and 
cleverly  mingles  art,  humor  and  sentiment 

HILMA,  by  William  Tiilinghast    Eldridge,  with  illustrations  by 
Harrison  Fisher  and  Martin  Justice,  and  inlay  cover. 

It  is  a  rattling  good  tale,  written  with  charm,  and  full  of  remark- 
able happenings,  dangerous  doings,  strange  events,  jealous  intrigues 
and  sweet  love  making.  The  reader's  interest  is  not  permitted  to  lag, 
but  is  taken  up  and  carried  on  from  incident  to  incident  with  ingenu- 
ity and  contagious  enthusiasm.  The  story  gives  us  the  Graustark 
and  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda  th  rill,  but  the  tale  is  treated  with  fresh- 
ness, ingenuity,  and  enthusiasm,  and  the  climax  is  both  unique  and 
satisfying.  It  will  hold  the  fiction  lover  close  to  every  page. 

THE   MYSTERY    OF    THE    FOUR    FINGERS,  by  Fred  M. 
White,  with  halftone  illustrations   by  Will  Grefc. 

A  fabulously  rich  gold  mine  in  Mexico  is  known  by  the  picturesque 
and  mysterious  name  of  The  Pour  Fingers.  It  originally  belonged 
to  an  Aztec  tribe,  and  its  location  is  known  to  one  surviving  descendant 
— a  man  possessing  wonderful  occult  power.  Should  any  person  un- 
lawfully discover  its  whereabouts,  four  of  his  fingers  are  mysteriously 
removed,  and  one  by  one  returned  to  him.  The  appearance  of  the 
final  fourth  betokens  his  swift  and  violent  death. 

Surprises,  strange  and  startling,  are  concealed  in  every  chapter  of 
this  completely  engrossing  detective  story.  The  horrible  fascination 
of  the  tragedy  holds  one  in  rapt  attention  to  the  end.  And  through 
it  runs  the  thread  of  a  curious  love  story. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,          -         -         New  York 


MEREDITH   NICHOLSON'S 
FASCINATING  ROMANCES 

Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.     Price,  75  cents  per  volume,  postpaid. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  A  THOUSAND  CANDLES.    With  a  frontis- 
piece  in  colors  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 

A  novel  of  romance  and  adventure,  of  love  and  valor,  of  mystery  and 
hidden  treasure.  The  hero  is  required  to  spend  a  whole  year  in  the 
isolated  house,  which  according  to  his  grandfather's  will  shall  then 
become  his.  If  the  terms  of  the  will  be  violated  the  house  goes  to  a 
young  woman  whom  the  will,  furthermore,  forbids  him  to  marry. 
Nobody  can  guess  the  secret,  and  the  whole  plot  moves  along  with 
an  exciting  rip. 

THE  PORT  OF  MISSING  MEN.    With  illustrations  by   Clar- 
ence  F.  Underwood. 

There  is  romance  of  love,  mystery,  plot,  and  fighting,  and  a  breath- 
.ess  dash  and  go  about  the  telling  which  makes  one  quite  forget 
about  the  improbabilities  of  the  story;  and  it  all  ends  in  the  old- 
fashioned  healthy  American  way.  Shirley  is  a  sweet,  courageous 
heroine  whose  shining  eyes  lure  from  page  to  page. 

ROSALIND  AT  REDGATE.    Illustrated  by  Arthur  L  Keller. 

The  author  of  "  The  House  of  a  Thousand  Candles "  has  here 
given  us  a  bouyant  romance  brimming  with  lively  humor  and  opti- 
mism ;  with  mystery  that  breeds  adventure  and  ends  in  love  and  hap- 
piness. A  most  entertaining  and  delightful  book. 

THE  MAIN  CHANCE.     With  illustrations  by  Harrison  Fisher. 

A  "traction  deal  "in  a  Western  city  is  the  pivot  about  which  the 
action  of  this  clever  story  revolves.  But  it  is  in  the  character-draw- 
ing of  the  principals  that  the  author's  strength  lies.  Exciting  inci- 
dents develop  their  inherent  strength  and  weaknesss,  and  if  virtue  wins 
in  the  end,  it  is  quite  in  keeping  with  its  carefully-planned  antecedents. 
The  N.  Y.  Sun  says :  "  We  commend  it  for  its  workmanship — for  its 
smoothness,  its  sensible  fancies,  and  for  its  general  charm." 

ZELDA  DAMERON.      With  portraits  of  the  characters  by 
John  Cecil  Clay. 

"  A  picture  of  the  new  West,  "at  once  startlingly  and  attractively 
true.  *  *  *  The  heroine  is  a  strange,  sweet  mixture  of  pride,  wil- 
f  ulness  and  lovable  courage.  The  characters  are  superbly  drawn ;  the 
atmosphere  is  convincing.  There  is  about  it  a  sweetness,  a  whole- 
•someness  and  a  sturdiness  that  commends  it  to  earnest,  kindly  and 
wholesome  people." — Boston  Transcript. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,         -         -         New  York 


BRILLIANT  AND  SPIRITED  NOVELS 

AGNES  AND  EGERTON  CASTLE 

Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.     Price,  75  cents  per  volume,  postpaid. 

THE  PRIDE  OF  JENNICO.     Being  a  Memoir  of  Captain  Basil 
Jennico. 

"  What  separates  it  from  most  books  of  its  class  is  its  distinction 
of  manner,  its  unusual  grace  of  diction,  its  delicacy  of  touch,  and  the 
fervent  charm  of  its  love  passages.  It  is  a  very  attractive  piece  of 
romantic  fiction  relying  for  its  effect  upon  character  rather  than  inci- 
dent, and  upon  vivid  dramatic  presentation. ' ' — The  Dial.  "  A  stirring, 
brilliant  and  dashing  story." — The  Oatlook. 

THE  SECRET  ORCHARD,    illustrated  by  Charles  D.  Williams. 

The  "  Secret  Orchard  "  is  set  in  the  midst  of  the  ultramodern  society. 
The  scene  is  in  Paris,  but  most  of  the  characters  are  English  speak- 
ing. The  story  was  dramatized  in  London,  and  in  it  the  Kendalls 
scored  a  great  theatrical  success. 

"  Artfully  contrived  and  full  of  romantic  charm  *  *  *  it  pos- 
sesses ingenuity  of  incident,  a  figurative  designation  of  the  unhal- 
lowed scenes  in  which  unlicens  ed  love  accomplishes  and  wrecks  faith 
and  happiness." — Athenaeum. 

YOUNG  APRIL.     With  illustrations  by  A.  B.  Wenzell. 

"  It  is  everything  that  a  good  romance  should  be,  and  it  carries 
about  it  an  air  of  distinction  both  rare  and  delightful." — Chicago 
Tribune.  "With  regret  one  turns  to  the  last  page  of  this  delightful 
novel,  so  delicate  in  its  romance,  so  brilliant  in  its  episodes,  so  spark- 
ling in  its  art,  and  so  exquisite  in  its  diction. " —  Worcester  Spy. 

FLOWER  O'  THE  ORANGE.     With  frontispiece. 

We  have  learned  to  expect  from  these  fertile  authors  novels  grace- 
ful in  form,  brisk  in  movement,  and  romantic  in  conception.  This 
carries  the  reader  back  to  the  days  of  the  bewigged  and  beruffled 
gallants  of  the  seventeenth  century  and  tells  him  of  feats  of  arms  and 
adventures  in  love  as  thrilling  and  picturesque,  yet  delicate,  as  the 
utmost  seeker  of  romance  may  ask. 

MY  MERRY  ROCKHURST.    Illustrated  by  Arthur  E.  Becher. 

In  the  eight  stories  of  a  courtier  of  King  Charles  Second,  which  are 
here  gathered  together,  the  Castles  are  at  their  best,  reviving  all  the 
fragrant  charm  of  those  books,  like  The  Pride  of  Jennico,  in  which 
they  first  showed  an  instinct,  amounting  to  genius,  for  sunny  romances. 
The  book  is  absorbing  *  *  *  and  is  as  spontaneous  in  feeling  as  it  is 
artistic  in  execution." — New  York  Tribune. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,         .         .         New  York 


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THE  CATTLE  BARON'S  DAUGHTER.    A  Novel  By  Harold 
Bindloss.     With  illustrations  by  David  Ericson. 

A  story  of  the  fight  for  the  cattle-ranges  of  the  West.  Intense  in- 
terest is  aroused  by  its  pictures  of  life  in  the  cattle  country  at  that 
critical  moment  of  transition  when  the  great  tracts  of  land  used  for 
grazing  were  taken  up  by  the  incoming  homesteaders,  with  the  in- 
evitable result  of  fierce  contest,  of  passionate  emotion  on  both  sideSi 
and  of  final  triumph  of  the  inevitable  tendency  of  the  times. 

WINSTON  OF  THE  PRAIRIE.    With  illustration,  in  color  by 
W.  Herbert  Dunton. 

A  man  of  upright  character,  young  and  clean,  but  badly  worsted 
in  the  battle  of  life,  consents  as  a  desperate  resort  to  impersonate  for 
a  period  a  man  of  his  own  age — scoundrelly  in  character  but  of  an 
aristocratic  and  moneyed  family.  The  better  man  finds  himself  barred 
from  resuming  his  old  name.  How,  coming  into  the  other  man's  pos- 
sessions, he  wins  the  respect  of  all  men,  and  the  love  of  a  fastidious, 
delicately  nurtured  girl,  is  the  thread  upon  which  the  story  hangs.  It 
is  one  of  the  best  novels  of  the  West  that  has  appeared  for  years. 

THAT  MAINWARING  AFFAIR.      By  A.  Maynard  Barbour. 
With  illustrations  by  E.  Plaisted  Abbott. 

A  novel  with  a  most  intricate  and  carefully  unraveled  plot.  A 
naturally  probable  and  excellently  developed  story  and  the  reader 
will  follow  the  fortunes  of  each  character  with  unabating  interest 
*  *  *  the  interest  is  keen  at  the  close  of  the  first  chapter  and  in- 
creases to  the  end. 

AT  THE  TIME  APPOINTED.    With  a  frontispiece  in  color* 
by  J.  H.  Marchand. 

The  fortunes  of  a  young  mining  engineer  who  through  an  accident 
loses  his  memory  and  identity.  In  his  new  character  and  under  his 
new  name,  the  hero  lives  a  new  life  of  struggle  land  adventure.  The 
volume  will  be  found  highly  entertaining  by  those  who  appreciate  a 
thoroughly  good  story. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,         •         •         New  York 


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IN  POPULAR  PRICED   EDITIONS 

Re-issues  of  the  great  literary  successes  of  the  time.  Library 
size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with  illustra- 
tions of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

BEVERLY  OF  GRAUSTARK.  By  George  Barr  McCut- 
cheon.  With  Color  Frontispiece  and  other  illustrations 
by  Harrison  Fisher.  Beautiful  inlay  picture  in  colors  of 
Beverly  on  the  cover. 

*  The  most  fascinating,  engrossing  and  picturesque  of  the  season's 
novels."— Boston  Herald,  "'Beverly'  is  altogether  charming — al- 
most living  flesh  and  blood."— Louisville  Times.  "Better  than 
*  Graustark  '."—Mail  and  Express.  "  A  sequel  quite  as  impossible 
as  '  Graustark '  and  quite  as  entertaining." — Bookman.  "  A  charm* 
ing  love  story  well  told."— Boston  Transcript, 

A  ROGUE.    By  Harold  MacGrath.     With  illustra- 
tions and  inlay  cover  picture  by  Harrison  Fisher. 


.        . 

quick  movement.  '  Half  a  Rogue  ^  «»o  ^n.^  «->  *»  ^^.O.-L^V.«.  *iUv,  w». 
a  glorious  morning.  It  is  as  varied  as  an  April  day.  It  is  as  charming 
as  two  most  charming  girls  can  make  it.  Love  and  honor  and  suc- 
cess and  all  the  great  things  worth  fighting  for  and  living  for  the  in« 
volved  in  '  Half  a  Rogue.'  " — Phila.  Press. 

THE  GIRL  FROM  TIM'S  PLACE.     By  Charles  Clark 

Munn.  With  illustrations  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
""Figuring  in  the  pages  of  this  story  there  are  several  strong  char- 
acters.  Typical  New  England  folk  and  an  especially  sturdy  one,  old 
Cy  Walker,  through  whose  instrumentality  Chip  comes  to  happiness 
and  fortune.  There  is  a  chain  ef  comedy,  tragedy,  pathos  and  love, 
which  makes  a  dramatic  story." — Boston  Herald. 

THE  LION  AND  THE  MOUSE.   A  story  of  American  Life. 

By  Charles  Klein,  and  Arthur  Hornblow.     With  illustra* 

tions  by  Stuart  Travis,  and  Scenes  from  the  Play. 

The  novel  duplicated  the  success  of  the  play ;  in  fact  the  book  is 

greater  than  the  play.    A  portentous  clash  of  dominant  personalties 

that  form  the  essence  of  the  play  are  necessarily  touched  upon  bul 

briefly  in  the  short  space  of  four  acts.     All  this  is  narrated  in  the 

novel  with  a  wealth  of  fascinating  and  absorbing  detail,  making  it  one 

of  the  most  powerfully  written  and  exciting  works  of  fiction  given  to 

the  world  in  years. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  -  NEW  YORK 


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tions of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

BARBARA    WINSLOW,    REBEL.     By  Elizabeth  Ellis. 

With  illustrations  by  John  Rae,  and  colored  inlay  cover 
The  following,  taken  from  story,  will  best  describe  the  heroine: 
A  TOAST:  "  To  the  bravest  comrade  in  misfortune,  the  sweetest 
companion  in  peace  and  at  all  times  the  most  courageous  of  women." 
"-Barbara  Winslow.  "  A  romantic  story,  buoyant,  eventful,  and  in 
matters  of  love  exactly  what.the  heart.could  desire. "  ~Ne w  York  Sun. 

SUSAN.    By  Ernest  Oldmeado^r.    With  a  color  frontispiece 

by  Frank  Haviland.  Medalion  in  color  on  front  cover. 
Lord  Ruddington  falls  helplessly  in  love  with  Miss  Langley,  whom 
be  sees  in  one  of  her  walks  accompanied  by  her  maid,  Susan. 
Through  a  misapprehension  of  personalities  his  lordship  addresses 
a  love  missive  to  the  maid.  Susan  accepts  in  perfect  good  faith, 
and  an  epistolary  love-making  goes  on  till  they  are  disillusioned.  It 
naturally  makes  a  droll  and  delightful  little  comedy ;  and  is  a  story 
that  is  particularly  clever  in  the  telling. 

WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE.    By  Jean  Web- 
ster.   With  illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 
"The  book  is  a  treasure.'1 — Chicago  Daily   Arews.       "Bright, 
whimsical,  and  thoroughly  entertaining." — Buffalo  Express.    "One 
of  the  best  stories  of  life  in  a  girl's  college  that  has  ever  been  writ- 
ten."— N.  Y.  Press.    "  To  any  woman  who  has  enjoyed  the  pleasures 
of  a  college'lif  e  this  book  cannot  fail  to  bring  back  many  sweet  recol- 
lections ;  and  to  those  who  have  not  been  to  college  the  wit,  lightness, 
and  charm  of  Patty  are  sure  to  be  no  less  delightf  ul. "— Public  Opinion 

THE  MASQUERADER.     By  Katherine  Cecil  Thurston. 

With  illustrations  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 
"  You  can't  drop  it  till  you  have  turned  the  last  page." — Cleveland 
Leader.    "  Its  very  audacity  of  motive,  of  execution,  of  solution,  al 
most  takes  one's  breath  away.     The  boldness  of  its  denouement 
is  sublime." — Boston  Transcript.    "  The  literary  hit  of  a  generation. 
The  best  of  it  is  the  story  deserves  all  its  success.    Amasterij.-i  .»j 
•— St.  Louis  Dispatch.    "  The  story  is  ingeniously  told,  and  cleverJj 
Constructed." — The  Dial. 

THE  GAMBLER.    By  Katherine  Cecil  Thurston.     With 

illustrations  by  John  Campbell. 

"  Tells  of  a  high  strung  young  Irish  woman  who  has  a  passion  fox 
gambling,  inherited  from  a  long  line  of  sporting  ancestors.  She  has 
a  high  sense  of  honor,  too,  and  that  causes  complications.  She  is  & 
very  human,  lovable  character,  and  love  saves  ner." — N.  Y.  Times. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  -  NEW  YORK 


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tions of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  doth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

THE  AFFAIR  AT  THE  INN.    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 

With  illustrations  by  Martin  Justice. 

"  As  superlatively  clever  in  the  writing  as  it  is  entertaining  in  the 
reading.  It  is  actual  comedy  of  the  most  artistic  sort,  and  it  is 
handled  with  a  freshness  and  originality  that  is  unquestionably 
novel." — Boston  Transcript.  "  A  feast  of  humor  and  good  cheer, 
yet  subtly  pervaded  by  special  shades  of  feeling,  fancy,  tenderness, 
or  whimsicality.  A  merry  thing  in  prose."— St.  Louis  Democrat. 

ROSE  0'  THE  RIVER.    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggia.    With 

illustrations  by  George  Wright. 

"'Rose  o'  the  River,'  a  charming  bit  of  sentiment,  gracefully 
written  and  deftly  touched  with  a  gentle  humor.  It  is  a  dainty  book 
— daintily  illustrated."— New  York  Tribune.  "A  wholesome,  bright, 
refreshing  story,  an  ideal  book  to  give  a  young  girl." — Chicago 
Record-Herald.  "  An  idyllic  story,  replete  with  pathos  and  inimita- 
ble humor.  As  story-telling  it  is  perfection,  and  as  portrait-painting 
it  is  true  to  the  life.'  — London  Mail. 

TILLIE :    A  Mennonite  Maid.    By  Helen  R.  Martin.    With 

illustrations  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

-rlie  little  "  Mennonite  Maid  "  who  wanders  through  these  pages 
is  something  quite  new  in  fiction.  Tillie  is  hungry  for  books  and 
beauty  and  love ;  and  she  comes  into  her  inheritance  at  the  end. 
"  Tillie  is  faulty,  sensitive,  big-hearted,  eminently  human,  and  first, 
last  and  .always  lovable.  Her  charm  glows  warmly,  the  story  is  well 
handled,  the  characters  skilfully  developed."—  The  Book  Buyer. 

LADY  ROSE'S  DAUGHTER.    By  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 

With  illustrations  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
"The  most  marvellous  work  of  its  wonderful  author."— New  York 
World.  "We  touch  regions  and  attain  altitudes  which  it  is  not  given 
to  the  ordinary  novelist  even  to  approach.' ' — London  Times.  "  In 
no  other  story  has  Mrs.  Ward  approached  the  brilliancy  and  vivacity 
of  Lady  Rose's  Daughter." — North  American  Review. 

THE  BANKER  AND  THE  BEAR.  By  Henry  K.  Webster. 
"  An  exciting  and  absorbing  story." — New  York  Times.  "Intense- 
ly thrilling  in  parts,  but  an  unusually  good  story  all  through.  There 
is  a  love  affair  of  real  charm  and  most  novel  surroundings,  there  is  a 
run  on  the  bank  which  is  almost  worth  a  year's  growth,  and  there  is 
all  manner  of  exhilarating  men  and  deeds  which  should  bring  the 
book  into  high  and  permanent  favor." — Chicago  Evening  Post. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  -  NEW  YORK 


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BIRD  NEIGHBORS.  An  Introductory  Acquaint- 
ance  with  150  Birds  Commonly  Found  in  the  Woods, 
Fields  and  Gardens  About  Our  Homes.  By  Neltje 
Blanchan.  With  an  Introduction  by  John  Burroughs, 
and  many  plates  of  birds  in  natural  colors.  Large 
Quarto,  size  7^x10^6,  Cloth.  Formerly  published 
at  $2.00.  Our  special  price,  $1.00. 

As  an  aid  to  the  elementary  study  of  bird  life  nothing  has  ever  been 
published  more  satisfactory  than  this  most  successful  of  Nature 
Books.  This  book  makes  the  identification  of  our  birds  simple  and 
positive,  even  to  the  uninitiated,  through  certain  unique  features. 
L  All  the  birds  are  grouped  according  to  color,  in  the  belief  that  a 
bird's  coloring  is  the  first  and  often  the  only  characteristic  noticed. 
II.  By  another  classification,  the  birds  are  grouped  according  to  their 
season.  III.  All  the  popular  names  by  which  a  bird  is  known  are 
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and  popular  book.  The  most  successful  and  widely  sold  Nature 
Book  yet  published. 

BIRDS  THAT  HUNT  AND  ARE  HUNTED.  Life 
Histories  of  1 70  Birds  of  Prey,  Game  Birds  and  Water- 
Fowls.  By  Neltje  Blanchan.  With  Introduction  by 
G.  O.  Shields  (Coquina).  24  photographic  illustra- 
tions in  color.  Large  Quarto,  size  7^x10^.  Form- 
erly published  at  $2.00.  Our  special  price,  $1.00. 

No  work  of  its  class  has  ever  been  issued  that  contains  so  much 
valuable  information,  presented  with  such  felicity  and  charm.  The 
colored  plates  are  true  to  nature.  By  their  aid  alone  any  bird  illus- 
trated may  be  readily  identified.  Sportsmen  will  especially  relish 
the  twenty-four  color  plates  which  show  the  more  important  birds  in 
characteristic  poses.  They  are  probably  the  most  valuable  and 
artistic  pictures  of  the  kind  available  to-day. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  -  NEW  YORK 


A     000  052  021     3 


